


Fate/Historia

by BlooberryRei



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Drama, F/M, Holy Grail, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 68,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlooberryRei/pseuds/BlooberryRei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The 3rd Holy Grail War and the corruption of the Greater Grail resulted in the tales of heroic spirits being rewritten, history unraveled and sewn back together in an era where noble kings that were once thousands of years apart now rule on the same earth, conquerors fight for land for their own empires, and unlikely alliances are formed for the good of one's kingdom.<br/>Meanwhile, in Fuyuki during the 4th Holy Grail War, the effect of this mighty shift in time has left more than one Servant altered in their memories and thoughts, causing their Masters to rethink their strategies for combat, and their strategy to  survive.</p><p>A/N: The story will rely heavily on the original stories of the Heroes such as the Arthurian Legends and Epic of Gilgamesh. This means that characters will be included that were not necessarily mentioned in the Fate series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**_A/N: The story picks up during the first fight between Lancer and Saber._ **

* * *

 

_Near the Fuyuki River..._

The ground pulsed with the life of the lightning that danced across the behemoth of a chariot that had rode into the middle of the battle. Arturia could only assume that this was Rider, another Servant in the War.

"I am Iskander!" cried the man from atop the chariot. "The King of Conquerors! In this battle, I am the Rider Class of Servants!"

Arturia blinked.

Well, she was right.

Glancing towards her previous foe, she could see Lancer with a look that read either disbelief or abhorrence.

Perhaps both.

As Iskander went on about himself and some proposition to join forces in order to obtain the Holy Grail together, Arturia couldn't help but find herself recognizing the man's demeanor. His profile, silhouetted by the fluorescent street lamps, did nothing to blight out the fiery read hair that covered most of his head and face. His appearance was so dynamic that it seemed impossible to forget him. And yet, Arturia could only remember so much about her past life.

Lancer was the first to address Iskander.

"As tempting as your offer may be, I'm afraid I must decline. I may give the Grail to but one man. My new avowed lord Master, and not the likes of you."

Arturia could practically hear Iskander frown. She chimed in, "Tell me, Rider. Did you come here to rudely interfere with our battle, merely to proffer that absurd and foolish plan of yours?" Her one good grip, while the other remained wounded from Lancer's cursed spear, tightened around Excalibur. "This is a grave offense against my honor!"

Iskander reached up and scratched his beard, humming briefly.

"I'd be willing to discuss compensation-"

"Enough!" both Lander and Arturia snapped.

"I am the rightful King of Britain, and...and..."

Just as forceful as she began, Arturia felt her words dry up in her throat as her memory dropped into oblivion. It was as if someone had reached into her life and cut out a piece in time with a jagged knife. Memories trickled down from the crystal clear image of Excalibur upon its stone, to the painful altercations with Lancelot and Guinevere. What had they been in dispute about again? The fights grew dimmer and fuzzier as Arturia strained to recall them. She had completely lost track of what had been going on in the present.

"Arthur!"

She jolted back to reality at the sound of her name, a name she had not uttered to anyone but her Master. A wide grin crossed Iskander's face.

"I thought as much," he said with a chuckle. "This is quite a surprise! I would hardly be expected to encounter the King of Knights as yourself. You did a better work of concealing your feminine identity when we first encountered, _little girl_."

Anger boiled in Arturia's gut, partly for Iskander's mockery of her, but mostly that she indeed knew him, as confirmed by the man himself, and yet she could still not conjure up any memory of him.

"Would you like to taste this little girl's blade, King of Conquerors?" she said through her teeth. "Or would you do better to hold your foul tongue?"

Iskander merely scoffed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" sad a tiny voice that came from behind Iskander. Arturia leaned to the right to see a boy cowering behind Rider, presumably his master. There then came a string of altercations between the boy and Lancer's master who had been hiding in the shadows. Something about Rider being Kayneth's rightful servant. Arturia paid no heed to it, as a different dispute went on in her mind. She thought so hard for a clue, a hint, something.

"Those too craven and cowardly to show themselves here tonight will draw the viscous scorn of Iskander, King of Conquerors."

Just then, distant chuckle, detached from anyone present, echoed about the shipping containers that surrounded the battlefield. The boy in the chariot, Waver his name was, was the first to speak up.

"Oh no! That's him!" he said, his voice trembling. Then Arturia saw him, perched atop a light post. He practically radiated from the flawless golden armor that adorned him from head to toe.

 _How vain_ , Arturia thought.

"The Servant that defeated Assassin?!" said Kayneth, still concealed from sight.

"So," the new man spoke lowly, yet his voice carried far to reach Arturia's ears, "two lesser beings dare to name themselves kings even in my royal presence?"

Iskander turned, the chariot creaking under his weight, and faced the new adversary.

"I fail to see where the problem lies, Servant. For I am Iskander, the legendary King of the Conquerors." Arturia was about ready to cut out Rider's tongue if he even evaded to being the King of Conquerors one more time. "Or perhaps you were referring to the little princess to dares so valiantly to compete with our power?"

"What nonsense!" said the king atop the post. "Of course I am referring to the both of you. Although her offenses are entirely separated from yours."

His voice left a strange taste in Arturia's mouth. She also knew that voice, arrogant and powerful, full of himself, full of authority. But once again, her memory fell short of his identity.

"If you are that who insists your claim," said Iskander. "Then why not name yourself? No true king should be troubled by something as simple as giving his name to those he wishes to challenge."

"You would question me, you filthy mongrel? Me, the one true king?"

Arturia's head began to ache. She was confused and angry and she wanted a straight answer, not a pissing contest between two hotheaded men.

"If you cannot now discern my identity in the presence of my magnificent glory, then your ignorant blindness will serve to seal you demise." His stance shifted as he turned to face Arturia from above. "And you, little lioness, should have my name branded upon your lips still."

"What?!" Arturia snapped; her grip tightened around her blade. "How dare you speak to me in that manner. I'll cut out your tongue for saying such things to me!"

The man raised a bright eyebrow.

"That's the very same fire I recall taming in our bedchambers." He chuckled again. "Come now, Arturia..." Her breath caught in her throat. "...don't play the fool with me."

"Who are you!?" Arturia screamed, the wind around her blade picked up in a cyclone that tossed about her hair and clothes. A struggled groan escaped her throat as she turned to Irisviel, the woman posing as her Master.

"Who am- I?" she cried to her. Irisviel clutched at her chest with perplexed eyes.

"Saber..." Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"You mean to tell me," the proud king spoke up once more, "that you have no recollection of your own king and savior?"

"You are not my king!" Arturia snapped.

"But of course I am..." A wide grin spread across his lips. "...my queen."


	2. The Mad Dog and the Golden King

_Fuyuki, Japan_

The shipping containment yard had fell under Archer's gaze as he opened up what looked to be a dozen golden portals from which blades of every variety came forth to hover behind his head, as they were waiting for him. All he saw stared up at him, some with jaws dropped in disbelief, others with brows furrowed in confusion.

And then there was Saber, who clenched her sword in a mix of both anger and confusion that burned violently behind her emerald eyes. Gilgamesh maintained his composure, but inside, he willed Saber to do something- anything other than look up at him as if he were the most despicable enemy. Did she really not remember?

He was about to break the frustrating silence when, seemingly out of nowhere, a swirling cloud of a violent black and deep blue surfaced from the ground like an infuriated twister, and a roar, loud enough to cause the metal containers around to shiver, tore through the night air. Gilgamesh realized that it was not the containers that quivered and creaked, but the very armor of the newest Servant that appeared before them.

"Berserker?!" cried Saber, and instinctively, she raised her sword towards him. The black knight was shrouded in a dark cloud of insanity. There came only a red glow beneath his helmet that indicated that there _might_ be something sentient underneath that unsettling armor.

"So, King of Conquerers," Lancer said rather curtly, almost mocking Rider. "Are you planning to ask him to join in your _conquest_ as well?"

Rider scratched his beard while observing their new guest. He was shockingly casual.

"Perhaps not," he mused. "He does not seem terribly interested in civilized negotiations of any kind, does he?" He leaned back into the chariot and addressed his Master, a scrawny young boy from what Gilgamesh could observe. "Hey there, boy. How powerful a Servant is this monster, huh?"

The boy, who couldn't be much older than eighteen or nineteen, timidly peered out from behind Rider and squinted at Berserker, then rubbed his eyes with a groan.

"I don't know...I can't really tell..."

"What do you mean boy?" Rider protested angrily. "Are you not a Master chosen by the Holy Grail?" He crossed his arms, and then proceeded to lecture the boy on him supposed ability to detect the strengths and weaknesses of a Servant.

The albino woman, probably the Einzbern woman from what Gilgamesh had gathered from his own Master's information, stood behind Saber and whispered something cautiously to her. Saber responded with a low murmur, but her eyes darted around to each of the Servants, ending at Gilgamesh. Her eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, before hurriedly glancing away.

Berserker then gave another vicious roar and glanced- at least it seemed as if he glanced- towards Saber, and hunched his shoulders, as if preparing to strike.

"Who gave you permission to look upon my greatest treasure, you mad dog?" Gilgamesh spat out, anger boiling at the pit of his stomach. "May your death provide me some modicum of entertainment...mongrel!"

Two of the weapons that waited behind him shot forth towards Berserker. There was an explosion, and a cloud of earth flew into the air, blocking the Servant from sight.

"Good God!" Lancer cried out. "Is that truly Berserker?!"

"For a madman completely devoid of a soul of conscience," Rider added, "...huh, he is rather nimble."

Gilgamesh had seen it. He had seen it all. The mad dog had snatched one of his beloved swords right out of the air, pivoted on one foot, and then sliced the other flying blade straight from the air in a single movement, faster than any of the human eyes could have observed.

"How dare you lay your filthy hands on my precious treasures," said Gilgamesh. "You must long for a painful death, you cur!"

As if summoned them through his threats, more and more portals of light appeared behind him, with more blades awaiting his silent command.

"Alright, now mongrel," he said through his gritted teeth. "Let us all see how long your parlor tricks can keep you alive now."

As if propelled by the force of a firearm, the blades shot forward towards the black knight, bombarding him. No one but the Servants were able to keep up with his swift movements, ducking and dodging, grabbing blades out of the air for his own, as if he knew how to handle each one with ease. He knocked the weapons from his path, diverting them into the shipping containers, which then lit up in an abrupt explosion.

Then, all was still for the blink of an eye, when, emerging from the cloud of dust and smoke, two exotic weapons spun from the darkness and cut through the light post on which Gilgamesh perched. He leaped in to the air as his pedestal crumbled beneath him, and landed on the ground with a clank of his golden armor. They were now on even ground, and Gilgamesh shook with anger.

"Fool," he hissed, trembling. "You dare to look upon my queen and then have me, who belongs among the heavens, trod upon the ground?!" He shot his red hot gaze towards Berserker. "Your impudence has sealed your death, mad dog. When I am through with you, nothing will remain of your corpse!"

Anger burned in him, a feeling that had taken only until now to reawaken after being locked among the Heroic Spirits of the past. His greatest treasure looked upon him like he was the vilest creature, yet, this brazen dog dared to get in his way of reclaiming what was his. Determination surged through his veins as he prepared to open the Gates of Babylon even further to wipe the blackened knight from existence. Not a scrap of armor would be left in his place, not a wisp of smoke, not-

"By the power of my Command Seal..." Gilgamesh halted, yet his rage was still visible; the voice of Tokiomi Tohsaka echoed in the back of his head. "King of Heroes, quell your anger and withdraw."

Hist master had given him command, and he cried out in fury.

"You dare to order a king to withdraw?!" he spat in rage, unseen to his Master. "To leave the fight undone?! To abandon what is rightfully mine to face this mad dog alone?" He could not disobey, no matter how much his limbs protested. "You are fortunate, mongrel. And you all-" He addressed the other Servants. "By our next meeting, see you cull your numbers! Only a true hero is worthy to look upon my glorious presence." He then narrowed his gaze to Saber. "And she," he continued, "is the only one worthy among you curs." A regretful smile flashed across his face for a split second. "Until next time, my lioness. I am sorry."

And without another word, he disappeared into a cloud of gold dust. Shortly after, when he reappeared outside the Tohsaka mansion, his rage boiled over and he smashed his fist into the tidy stone wall, causing a dozen cracks to spider away. His anger, desire, and longing all took over at once in that second. He was impressed he had managed to hold it in that entire time. One short, struggled breath escaped his lips as he choked out one word, that one important word.

"Arturia..."

* * *

 

_Long ago, in the Kingdom of Uruk_

The thought that it might be winter in other parts of Gilgamesh' world baffled him while he soaked in the large hot bath, which was heated by crackling flames below the floor. He thought of winter, not because he particularly liked the season, but because he wished not to think of spring and what it would bring. The green would sprout forth and cover the land in the color that reminded Gilgamesh of his once dear friend, now long gone into the earth, crumbled into clay by the will of the gods. It was at that precise moment, when Enkidu's once strong grip hardened into earth and then deteriorated in Gilgamesh's desperate hands, that he had realized how much he feared death. He fears the reality that even his powerful equal and greatest friend was ultimately no match for the might of mortality.

"You shouldn't fear spring so much."

Gilgamesh lazily opened one eye to see the familiar form of Enkidu, fully clad in his white robes. Enkidu sat across from him, his green hair fanned out in the water like grass from the rivers. Gilgamesh would have gone into a fit of fear and rage a few months ago at this sight, but this image had been returning to his memories for a while now. The image and conscience of his dearest friend now haunted him every day.

"You should not even be around," Gilgamesh added dully. "You're not even really there."

"And yet, here I am, right where you want me to be."

"I buried you, Enkidu. The only thing I want is for you to rest in peace."

"And I certainly am." Enkidu casually swirled his fingertips through the hot water. "My body is resting quite nicely, all crumbled up into clay and dust. I'm sure my spirit is somewhere as well. But me? I am what you want. To be here, to carry on as I always did in life and stick my nose where it never belonged," he said, a slight smirk on his face

Gilgamesh frowned at the image of his past friend.

"My soul must not know what is good for me if it desires to torment my eyes with illusions of a dead man whom I put to rest long ago."

"My King?"

In the beginning of the king's hallucinations, typically Enkidu would disappear when someone else entered the room or spoke up. But now, he remained forever in Gilgamesh's sights, leaving only when "he pleased." Gilgamesh was pulled from his thoughts by the delicate voice of the messenger who appeared under the large arched doorway into the humid room. The guards promptly searched her for any sort of weapon, despite her wearing a simple thin dress and sandals, an ordeal Gilgamesh found quite tiresome and unnecessary. He did not immediately respond to the girl's call.

"Sire?"

"Well?" Gilgamesh lulled his head to the side to see her. Apparently, she had been sent to report something to him.

"You may enter," he said, and she obeyed, stopping exactly ten steps away before sliding to the floor in a humble bow.

"Well, what do you have for me?"

The girl swallowed and rose up onto her knees. Enkidu laughed,

"She's a pretty one isn't she?"

"I bring few reports from other nations my King, and a message from another," said the girl. She was a young one, perhaps seventeen. The locks of dark hair that were not tied up in an intricate maze of braids on top of her head fell to her waist. Her skin was dark; she clearly spent a lot of time in the sun. But she was still very beautiful.

Gilgamesh pressed his lips together as he raked his gaze up and down the girl's lithe body. She was a work of the gods, surely.

"And?"

"You wished to learn about the western kingdoms, if I was informed correctly."

"You were." Gilgamesh was beginning to get annoyed; the fact that a beautiful girl was standing in front of him with her clothes on frustrated him.

"It would seem that ever since the Romans abandoned Britannia, Williame the Bastard has taken the opportunity to try and take those lands for himself."

"Williame of Normandy?"

"Yes, my King."

"Was he not just dealing with the peasant uprisings in his own lands?"

"Those were recently quelled, although he did lose a lot of his land to the rebels."

"How did that happen?"

"He ultimately had the leader burned at the steak for witchcraft and blasphemy."

"Was it not a woman who lead the rebellions?"

"Yes, my King. Jeanne d'Arc. The... 'Holy Virgin' they called her."

"Well that's actually quite impressive," said Enkidu, and the tone of his voice matched his words; he actually did sound somewhat impressed. He was now floating lazily around the pool on his back. "I bet you've never been with a warrior woman, have you, Gil?"

Gilgamesh laughed briefly, partly at Enkidu, and partly at the news.

"Surely she knew better than to get involved with the affairs of men." He glanced askance at the pitcher of wine that sat close to his fingertips. "It would take a special woman indeed to even come close to the might of a king."

The messenger girl sat quietly, obediently waiting for her king to give her an order.

"What else?" he asked.

"King Arthur has taken a quick retaliation to the Bastard's threats to take his kingdom."

"That son of Uther Pendragon?"

"Yes, my King."

Gilgamesh scoffed and stretched his arms out across the side of the pool.

"It concerns me not how long he has claimed to rule lands that should be mine. Do his people love him?"

"Well, my King," said the girl, "it is hard to love one's ruler during wartime." The girl paused. "Actually, word has come forward from Britannia, sealed by the king's insignia himself."

"Well, listen to that," said Enkidu, swimming up next to the girl. "She's got quite some knowledge for a messenger girl, huh?"

Gilgamesh extended his hand to her. One of the guards left his post from the door and came over to the girl, took the sealed scroll from her, and handed it to the king. Gilgamesh broke the seal and read the message quietly to himself.

"Now what do the British mongrels even have that is worth me sending my own troops to take Williame by surprise and rescue their worthless kingdom?"

"Oh, do you not remember the legends, my old friend?" Enkidu laughed his high pitched laugh that had always reminded Gilgamesh of bells. "You who are so desperate to achieve immortality? Do you not remember the tails of Christ's last supper and the supposedly holy relic that he drank from?"

Gilgamesh in fact did remember. When the Jewish man who claimed to be the son of God had been executed for his blasphemy, his blood was said to have been drained into that very goblet and now that cup held the power to grant eternal youth.

Gilgamesh paused in his musings; the water went still around them. Only a small chuckle escaped his lips.

"Come here," he commanded the girl with a beckon of a finger, who obeyed immediately. She rose to her feet, only to kneel down once more at the king's side. With another flick of his wrist, the guards turned their backs to him at the door.

"Take off your clothes," he said to the girl. "I wish to celebrate."

The girl, who was made aware of her use in her king's presence, obediently slipped her dress off her shoulders. The airy fabric fell to the floor and tiny feet stepped over and inched closer to the edge of the pool.

"Aww, this one's shy," Enkidu murmured, humor in his voice. It looked as if he were stroking the girl's leg, but as a curse of Gilgamesh's remaining grief, he was simply an image that did not belong.

"More," Gilgamesh coaxed, reaching his hand to the girl. She took it and stepped into the large bath. Her king pulled her down and wordlessly set her down into the water and reveled in the gasp that caught in her throat as he slowly took her for his own.

"You can never get enough women in your life, can you?" said Enkidu, finally deciding to fade from the corner of his friend's eye.


	3. Gloom of Encounters

_Southern Fields of Britannia_

The battlefield stunk of hot metal and festering wounds. It called to the carrion that cried back in hungering swarms that formed small shadows. They were only welcome to blot out the sun every once in a while.

"This is horrid," said a voice much too small and timid for a king, yet the words were spoken from beneath a crown. "This was no victory. It was a purposeless slaughter of my people."

The small king leaned on a massive sword for support as another knight approached.

"My King," he said. "Do not count the bodies. Count the victories."

"We were not victorious, Gawain. We survived. We merely survived. I am not so sure we will last another wave of either Williame's armies or the barbarians from the north without losing the sole reason we are defending Britannia."

"Your people?"

The king nodded.

"My people."

Gawain breathed a hefty sigh as he lifted his helm from his sweaty brow and tried to wipe it dry with the small piece of his tabard that was not caked with the blood of allies and enemies alike. It was all red anyway, causing his brow to turn an unpleasant crimson color.

"If you spend your life counting the men who have died in your name, you will never live long enough to celebrate what they have fought for in the first place."

The king thought on the knight's noble words, and made a decision to think on them some more later. For now, she had other matters to attend to.

* * *

 

_Fuyuki_

Arturia tugged on the sleeves of her pitch black suit. Irisviel had dressed her quite nicely, and having been summoned into this modern world with a plethora of knowledge relevant to this day and age, Arturia recognized the suit as a finely crafted one. She liked it. And it was endearing to see Irisviel enjoy herself around her. She did not seem to get out much, so when she had been informed that she could take her car out for a drive, she could hardly contain herself. Naturally, Arturia was sent along with her for protection, but she minded not. Irisviel was a charming young woman, gentle and kind. She never had an unnecessarily bad thing to say.

"A Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coup," Arturia rattled off instinctively. "A fine model."

For a moment, she was surprised at herself for having known this fact of no importance. Irisviel gave a light snort and unlocked her car. The satisfying click resonated in the garage.

"It's quite a beautiful thing, isn't it?" she said, her voice smooth and soft like a bell. She ran her fingers along the silver roof. Arturia nodded silently and climbed into the passenger seat. Irisviel had already climbed behind the wheel, but she did not start the engine. It was as if her thoughts had taken a 180 degree turn. There was no excited smile upon her pale lips; her ruby eyes dimmed from a sparkle to a shimmer. Her nearly white fingers ran absentmindedly around the cold leather of the steering wheel.

"Ms. Einzbern?" said Arturia, slightly tilting her head. "Something is troubling you."

Irisviel gave a faint smile.

"Heh, yes, but not for myself." She tapped the steering wheel with two fingers. "Saber, I am- concerned about you. That is why I requested to leave the grounds with you for a while."

Arturia raised an eyebrow, but then her face fell in realization. This was clearly about the night before when nearly all the Servants had gathered to battle.

"You are wondering about what Archer said."

"Very much so," said Irisviel. "It just confuses me. History says that a long time ago, so long ago that historians still debate whether or not you truly existed, William the Conqueror was attempting to take Britain shortly after the Romans pulled their forces out. If you are the nameless king that fought back William's forces, then I don't understand Archer's- or even Rider's reaction towards you.

"Moreover, if Rider really is Alexander the Great, or Iskander as he proclaimed, then there is no way he would know who you were. He was far too busy conquering the rest of the world. He never even bothered with your island country."

Arturia leaned forward, resting her face in her hands. Her head began to hurt.

"I am sorry, Irisviel," she said, her voice slightly muffled by her suede leather gloves. "But I only remember little pieces. I do remember Williame the Bastard however. I do remember him trying to take my people away from me. I must have triumphed over him because my death came from another."

Her voice fell to a quiet whisper. "I am just as perplexed as you are, Ms. Einzbern." With a heavy sigh, she sat back up. "Let us finish this discussion another day. I would like to see you enjoy yourself for a change. Let us go for a drive."

* * *

 

_Camelot_

"How long has it been since you sent the message to Uruk?"

Lancelot clenched the table where he sat. The rest of the knights sat quietly, well aware of the firestorm that was about to occur.

"A few weeks ago," said Arturia. "If we wait any longer and soak in our own pride, Williame's armies will tear through us." Arturia kept her head, even while Lancelot was about to lose his. "And you would do well to keep your wits about you, Lancelot, especially when we gather at the table."

The fiery knight bit his tongue and leaned back forcefully, waiting for anyone else to speak up. Surely Gawain would say something, maybe even Bedivere. He did not count on Gaheris or Gareth to say much, the newer knights that they were. And then there was Sir Agravain, the newest at the round table. He was a witty one, who only spoke when truly necessary and his words never failed to hold authority and wisdom. He was definitely sharp, and despite his short time at the Round Table, very trustworthy. Yet he also said nothing.

"I would not think I have to prompt my fellow knights to advise the king here that the decision he is making is clearly a foolish one."

"I must ask you, Lancelot," said Sir Agravain, leaning forward in his seat. "What makes you think this is such a foolish plan of action? His Majesty took initiative in times of war. That must certainly be better than nothing."

Arturia raised her eyebrow at Agravain, and then glanced back at Lancelot. He suddenly felt he was a minority in this regard. He took a moment to run his fingers through his long dark hair before drawing in a deep breath.

"I've heard many things about the king from whom our king has sought help," he started. "Gilgamesh is arrogant, stubborn. He has very rarely ever aided those who come to him unless standing aside would result in the danger of his own kingdom. He is a selfish man with many wives and concubines."

"What he chooses to do in his bedchambers is irrelevant," Arturia added. "What he decides to do with his armies and wealth is another matter entirely."

"He does not do anything with his riches, Majesty!" Lancelot placed his hands firmly on the table. "He hoards and hoards, storing the treasures he collects for himself."

"Would his armies increase our odds of victory?"

Lancelot faltered.

"Well- yes, but-"

"But nothing, Sir. If there is a chance I can prevent my people from dying at the hand of a French bastard, then I will take it."

"The-" Lancelot's hands tightened into fists on the table before returning his gaze to the king. "-the Arthur I once knew, when Excalibur had first been drawn from its stone prison, would never scrape his nose to the ground before a foreign king and beg him for help."

"Hold your tongue!" Arturia snapped, rising from her seat her face livid. As she did, the great wooden doors into the hall creaked open and the guard outside announced a visitor.

"Her Majesty, Queen Guinevere, your Highness."

Lancelot was the first to react of all the knights, immediately sliding to one knee and bracing his right hand into a tight fist over his heart. His dark hair fell in silken strands over his shoulders as he dipped his head to Guinevere as she passed him. The remaining knights moved from their seats to follow suit. Arturia did not kneel; she simply bowed her head and stepped out from behind the table.

"My Queen," she said lowly. "May I ask why you should intrude on our gathering?"

Guinevere stood there quietly. Then, she slowly looked around the room.

"I wish to speak with my husband in private about certain matters of our kingdom's welfare," she said, clear power in her voice. "I request His Majesty dismiss his knights for now. There will always be another day to gather."

Lancelot had stood up and watched the exchange between Guinevere and Arturia. His gaze instinctively fell on the queen, and he watched her lips as they uttered words in a voice to which he took a guilty pleasure in listening. Arturia gave a sigh and then dismissed the Knights from the Round Table.

"If anyone wishes to continue this discussion, I will come here later this evening," she said. Lancelot's attention was diverted as he noticed he was being watched. Sir Agravain glared at him, one eyebrow cocked, a light smirk on his face. Lancelot was the first out of the great hall.

* * *

 

_???_

 

_I am the shunned._

_The mocked._

_The despised._

_The world was nothing but a haze of red and black, blood and death, rage and helplessness. Trapped inside his own dark armor, Berserker screamed and flailed about, trying to break out, trying to break free of his hysterical prison. A painful amount of power burned in his veins. He cried tears of blood and gripped his dark hair until it remained but matted knots and dirty, violet, tendrils. The world was mad. The world was painful._

_Berserker groaned._

_I am the shunned_

_The only shimmer of a companion he had was a broken man. A broken man riddled with worms that killed half of his body and left him less than the shell of a human. And yet this man still held compassion somewhere deep in his shriveling heart._

_Compassion for a young woman._

_Her two daughters._

_Her one daughter, neglected and lost to the broken man's family, lost to the same worms that defile him now._

_Berserker roared._

_I am the mocked_

_His world was spiraling and violent, tormenting him with horrible noises, unattached to anything, to anyone. It was only after he allowed the madness a peek into his heart that he started to recognize the voices, the screams._

_A beautiful woman, with scarlet hair and dark eyes that held power over those around her. A woman who sacrificed a great for the good of her people, giving up one of the greatest pleasure the world has to offer to marry a facade. A fake. A wise and noble fake. But a fake nonetheless._

_Berserker cried._

_I am the despised._

_I am despised._

_The despicable._

_I am despair._


	4. Grasping the Truth

_Fuyuki_

"Irisviel, stop the car!" Arturia screamed abruptly.

She and Arturia had been driving down a long winding highway that from afar, overlooked Fuyuki. The tires screeched shrilly against the asphalt and the headlights illuminated the hunched figure of a strangely cloaked man in the middle of the road.

"Irisviel," said Arturia. "Get out of the car, and stay very close to me." She narrowed her eyes at the man, his bulging eyes staring bizarrely at her through the window; she felt defiled just meeting his gaze. "This presence...it's a Servant."

As soon as they left the safety of their vehicle the Servant wheezed in a deep and enthusiastic breath before crying out with his hands extended to Arturia.

"I have come for you, my sweet and holy virgin!"

Irisviel blinked and glanced at Arturia.

"Do you know this man?" she asked before the pause got too long.

"I have never laid eyes on him."

The man frowned, the dramatic features in his face contorting in ways that made Arturia's stomach curl.

"Oh no!" he cried. "Are you saying that you've forgotten my face?!"

"Oh for the love of all that is holy," Arturia mumbled. "Another man who claims to know me." She then shouted louder at him, "I've never met you in my life. You mistake me for another!"

"Aaah," he sighed despairingly, placing a hand on his heart. "It is me! Gille de Rai, my darling!"

_Well he is clearly French_ , Arturia thought with a hint of abhorrence, and that did nothing to quell the unease she felt before him.

"I have prayed for your resurrection and have been waiting for a miracle to reunite us!" he continued. "To that end, I have come all this way, to the end of time, my _Jeanne_!"

As if there were a spark in a circuit board, something sharp and electric pierced Arturia's mind. Something hacked deep into her memories, drawing for a word, and with that one word, unlocked a deluge of others. They flew at her so fast they sent her to her knees with a gasp of cold air.

"Saber!" cried Irisviel, falling to her knees next to her. "Saber, what's wrong? Do you know this name? What's wrong?"

She clenched her head at the temples, pulling locks free of the ponytail, turning her hair into tangles as she clawed for relief.

"I-ah!" she tried to muscle out even one sentence. "I know not-errgh- your name, I as-assure you." She gave Irisviel a desperate look. "Nor have I any idea of who-agh- I don't know who this Jeanne is!"

"No... No!" Gilles de Rais continued to cry out in hysterics. "My dear, no! You are fighting your former identity! You can't have forgotten! Do not fight it, my Holy Virgin, no!"

"Enough!"

Arturia willed herself into her armor, a flash of light enveloping her and Irisviel and sending Gilles back a few steps back. But this took more strength from her than she had, and before she could summon Excalibur, she collapsed in the middle of the road.

"Saber?" Irisviel shook the unconscious king. "Saber, wake up! Saber!"

* * *

 

_Arabian Desert, just outside Uruk_

Uruk was hot and dry. Those were the only things on which Arturia could focus. She had never seen such a clear sky as far as each horizon reached. The worn down path was the only way to differentiate between the right way and the vast desert on the side of the travelers. Arturia had taken very few with her: Lancelot, Bedivere, Gawain, and a few attendants to keep track of their precious supplies. Additionally, through Arturia's old friendship with him, Merlin had sent one of his higher apprentices to accompany them and keep the horses they rode enchanted with never-waning strength and speed. The wizard insured that the length of the trip would be halved, and he was right. The rigorous ride made the journey into the desert lands a little under a fortnight.

The horses had finally been disenchanted as not to drain their very life in exchange for the mana Merlin's apprenticed had assigned them. The hot sun beat down on everyone, and they had to resort to wrapping spare garments around their head to keep from burning.

As soon as Lancelot came up to ride next to Arturia, she knew this would not be a pleasant conversation.

"You know," Lancelot started. "We will have to take another route back to Britannia. Riding through the French territories was enough of a risk."

"Not if we bring an army with us," said Arturia, staring straight forward at the city. It had appeared to rise out of the sand; she hoped it was not another trick of the desert air.

"Of course, my king, but-"

"Do you think me a fool, Lancelot?" snapped finally snapped at him. "My ears have grown weary of your repetitive griping." She took a moment to breathe in the hot air and compose herself. "I am fully aware of the risks I take by traveling in this manner: My life, my comrades-" Her voice dropped for a brief moment. "-and my identity." Lancelot shifted uncomfortably. "But my people are dying at the hands of a man who thinks he can simply cross the waters and take our land from us." She stared down her most trusted friend remain unmoved. "If this is about the Bastard burning that girl at the stake for freeing her people, I would hardly tie it to my circumstances."

"She was your age," said Lancelot.

"And she was burned for witchcraft."

"Not true. Although that is the claim, Jeanne D'Arc was burned because she gave herself the appearance of a man while leading the rebellion. They simply added witchcraft to her charge of blasphemy because she claimed to have heard God order her to free her people."

"Her life and death is irrelevant."

"But yours is not, _my King_." Lancelot sounded more desperate than ever, but Arturia paid no heed and rode on ahead.

* * *

 

_Fuyuki, Tohsaka Mansion_

"Apparently, there are those in this world other than myself with an abundance of time on their hands," said Gilgamesh, a lazy tone to his low voice. He spoke casually to Kirei Kotomine while he lounged on a lavish leather couch, various empty wine bottles strewn about the floor. Yet the king showed no signs of intoxication. Kirei did not bother guessing why.

"I've been meaning to ask," said Kirei. "But what is your connection to Saber?"

Gilgamesh opened his eyes, a flash of red appeared for a split second, and was then gone as quickly as it came.

"Why must you know?" he asked.

"Because I must have read what tablets remained of your epic over a dozen times. Nowhere does it mention a woman, apart from your 'junior wives.'"

Gilgamesh smirked and closed his eyes again.

"So none of these 'tablets' ever mention a queen, do they?"

"No, none that are still intact at least."

"Then my secret is safe." A sly grin appeared on his face. "Besides, few are worthy to know the truth of my relationship with that woman." He paused, the smile fading. "It seems that she does not even remember the truth."

Kirei watched Gilgamesh's face change ever so subtly. He wondered what the king thought about when he was not busy flattering his ego.

"Master, my apologies," a dark figure faded into existence before Kirei and Gilgamesh; it was Assassin. "But I have more news about Caster that I thought you should hear."

"You mean _other_ than the rampant kidnapping of children?" said Kirei, his voice monotone as always. "One of you already told me this."

Gilgamesh watched the exchange between the Master and Servant. It was the first time he had seen a different member of the Assassin clan appear before Kirei, even though he had heard of this strange ability. The Servant summoned had been a multitude of Heroic Spirits gathered into one. Perhaps this was their Noble Phantasm.

"No sir," said Assassin. "It is something else."

"Well what is it?"

"It would seem that Caster, but not through the influence of his Master," she began, "has taken a very strong interest in the Saber Servant tonight."

Gilgamesh abruptly sat up onto the couch and dropped the bottle of wine he had been holding. This sudden action caught both Kirei and Assassin off guard. They glanced at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Caster?" he said. "Yet another mongrel has drawn his dirty gaze to Saber? Where is he? How powerful is he? I wish to know, now!"

"Please settle down, Archer," said Kirei. "I'm sure she was just about to tell us that."

"Right now, they are on Road 16," Assassin continued. "And I know not of the power he possesses, but as I watched the exchange between he and Saber, he merely called her a name-'Jeanne' and she collapsed."

The words had hardly left Assassin's mouth when Gilgamesh leaped up, and with a quick flash of gold, he donned his armor and disintegrated in a rush of gold mist.

"Uh-" Assassin murmured. "Master...may I ask what just happened?"

"You might want to inform Tohsaka what happened to his Servant," said Kirei, looking unamused. "He might want to know where his mighty King of Heroes is going."

* * *

 

_Uruk_

The ride through the city was unlike anything Arturia had ever experienced. The streets were packed with people. There were wagons parked on the side with goods tumbling out of them: Fruits, nuts, fish and cuts of cattle. Other stands held exotic looking jewelry and another held clothing that bore the brightest colors Arturia had ever seen. Bedivere had been stopped by a small boy selling flowers. Unfortunately, they had not the currency of this land to do any business with the very friendly merchants who never seemed to stop coming. Gawain ended up bartering a jewel from his sword for a large skin of water, but no one else paid much heed to the swarm of people below their horses.

They finally reached the palace and were greeted by a group of guards.

"Which one of you is, King Arthur."

Arturia stepped down from her horse.

"I am," she said, her voice cautious. The guards asked her to show her insignia ring to prove her identity, comparing it with the wax seal on the scroll she'd sent nearly a month before.

"You will leave your weapons here," said the guard; he seemed significantly more ornamented than the other two who stood on either side of him. "And you may only take one other man with you to into the presence of the King."

The high guard explained all of this to them while they walked down a maze of corridors until they reached a great wooden door, decorated with more gold that Arturia had ever seen in her life.

"But you may not take that man with you," the guard pointed to Merlin's apprentice. "He radiates of sorcery."

Arutia frowned and then nodded at her men. They proceeded to disarm themselves.

"If I am only permitted one companion, must all my men part with their swords?" asked Arturia.

"If the wish to remain outside the palace for the remainder of their stay, then no. They may keep their blades."

Arturia heard Lancelot sigh the loudest as he audibly smacked his sword, Arondight, onto the stone slab with Gawain's blades and Bedivere's bow.

"Be still, Lancelot," Arturia said calmly as she turned to place Excalibur on the table. "You will come in with me, friend. I trust you will know your place."

Lancelot's frown did not fade. It was apparent that he would fight this until the very end. And he had also been oddly bitter with Arturia for not allowing Guinevere to accompany them.

"Very well," he said curtly. The rest of the knights were escorted to their temporary quarters. Arturia hoped that they would be fed soon.

Finally the doors opened for them to meet the king of Babylon, the hero of Babylon, Gilgamesh.

The throne room was, again, unlike anything the two of them had ever seen. The ceiling was higher than any at Camelot, with marble pillars every twenty paces or so. The walls were crawling with lush vines, and wherever there were not vines, there was gold, gold vases with the largest flowers Arturia had ever laid eyes on, with brighter colors than she could have imagined. And at the end of the great hall, lounging on a largely cushioned gold chair, sat a tall man with gleaming bright hair that matched the gold jewelry that adorned him. He seemed preoccupied with the lion that lazed next to the throne. Gilgamesh ran his long fingers through the creature's mane, smiling as a low purr came through the creature's mouth.

"My King," said the high guard, still standing outside the great hall. "I present before you, Arthur Pendragon of Britannia, and Sir Lancelot of the Round Table."

He closed the doors behind him and the only guards that remained were the six that were placed on both sides of Gilgamesh at the back of the room.

As according to protocol, she and Lancelot went down onto one knee to acknowledge Gilgamesh as a king of his land. As the two bowed their heads in respect, Arturia heard a small mocking chuckle echo through the hall.

"What a sad excuse for a bow before your king," said Gilgamesh. "Just stand up."

"You are not my king," Lancelot snapped as they rose to their feet. "My king stands before you now, King of Britannia, Arthur Pendragon, stronghold of Camelot and-"

"You would do well to silence your dog, Arthur," said Gilgamesh. He suddenly narrowed his eyes towards Arturia, tilting his head ever so slightly. Stepping down from his throne; he got closer and closer to them with every word, "This is my kingdom, and I will say... and do...whatever I please."

He reached Arturia and then, without so much of any warning or glint of the eye, he reached forward and grasped Arturia hard between her legs.

"Ayee!" Arturia gave a high-pitched yelp and reflexively pushed away from her assaulter. A knowing smile flashed across Gilgamesh's face. As soon as the initial shock wore off, Lancelot lunged forward to defend his king, only to be blocked by the lion that viciously leaped forward with a ferocious growl. It's yellow fangs were sharp and glinted in the light.

"How dare you!" Lancelot boomed over the lion's roar. "You befouled, heathen tyrant!"

"Lancelot, stop!" Arturia gasped, her eyes locked onto Gilgamesh's. The gleaming king finally released her and she stumbled back and hurriedly checked the front of her robes that were now bunched up between her thighs. She smoothed them down and regained her composure.

"In the name of God and the glory of Mother Mary," she breathed harshly through her teeth. "How dare you-"

"Don't flatter yourself, _girl_ ," Gilgamesh said bluntly. "I was just checking."

Arturia's eyes widened as panic set in. Her gaze immediately darted to the half-a-dozen guards that stood next to the throne. Her secret had suddenly been dismantled and defiled by this arrogant tyrant in one movement. How had he seen through her guise?

Panic turned into anger.

"You violate me and then reveal my greatest secret before the ears of those I know not," she spat. "I have a kingdom to uphold and-"

"-to lie to?" said Gilgamesh, relaxing back into his chair; the lion followed him back loyally. "I can order my guards to fall on their swords right now and they will do so without question. Your precious little lie will continue to remain unknown, well, to everyone but myself."

"You would just put your knights to the sword without a second thought?" said Arturia, her voice in disbelief and shock.

"Knights?" Gilgamesh laughed. "Girl, these men are no knights. They are replaceable. I have an army of them waiting to die for me."

"Madness," was all Arturia could get out.

"Power," Gilgamesh countered.

The hall was silent for a moment, although it felt like an agonizing eternity.

"Or, if you grow faint at the sight of blood," Gilgamesh teased. "I could wait until you have left and then order them to fall. I can show you the bodies later." He leaned to the side. "Or if your delicate heart could not bear the thought of those men dying for your secret, I'll have their tongue's cut out. They are all illiterate so they couldn't write it down for anyone." His grin made her stomach churn. "Well, _girl_?"

Arturia clenched her fists. Ultimately, Lancelot stepped forward and asked that they fall on their swords and Gilgamesh ordered them to do so. Arturia looked away as they ended their own lives one by one. How could he do this to his people? To those loyal to him?

"My king," Lancelot said quietly. "You may not agree with their customs, but things are clearly done differently here than they are back home."

"Are you satisfied?" asked Gilgamesh, his eyes gleaming bright red.

"No," she said.

"Well, your secret is safe with me."

"I wouldn't call that safe," Lancelot added.

"You would do well to muzzle your dog like I suggested," said Gilgamesh, not taking his lewd gaze off Arturia. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I will command my men the way I see fit." He leaned into his hand and took a revitalizing breath. "I do not feel that the environment for this discussion is entirely appropriate," he said. "I will not agree to anything unless I speak privately with you." His gaze shifted from Arturia to Lancelot. "Without your dog."

Arturia placed her hand in front of Lancelot as she sensed him shift suddenly.

"Very well," she agreed. "We will speak among each other's company, but I trust you to be appropriate."

She really didn't.


	5. Diffidence of the Heart

_???_

_Clouded visions created a painful mist that filled Arturia's head. Even dead, it still hurt. At least, she thought she was dead. She assumed. Perhaps she had experienced what the modern medical world called an 'aneurism'. Could Heroic Spirits experience health problems not caused by the proper application of a weapon?_

_Thinking about this was the only thing that kept Arturia afloat on the black waters. As the waves washed over her ears, she could hear voices under the water, clearer than she could hear them though the air. It was strange, and yet familiar. She was being tossed in a hurricane but she could not move, scream. She could do nothing but hope her body stayed afloat. She felt cold and naked. Her armor was gone, her clothes were gone. The King of Knights as adrift and exposed in this black sea of cloudy memories and heartache._

_Occasionally, a memory would appear to comfort her, as if she were in the eye of the storm. She remembered her younger days as a squire, days before she drew Excalibur from the stone. She saw her greatest friend and ally, Lancelot. A youthful smile stretched across his flawless face. Arturia thought she heard the giggle of village girls but she did not see them. They had always been infatuated with the Knight of the Lake. She and Lancelot would go riding, even after the days of her coronation, and even after the day Lancelot had discovered his friend was just a little more different than he had expected._

_But just as Arturia was starting to enjoy the bittersweet memories, the storm would sweep her away and a wave would plunge her further into the black waters, where the angry screams and miserable sobs filled her water logged ears._

_"Savor it well, my king. Taste the blood on your hands."_

_"I have given everything for your noble facade, and you repay me with apathy."_

_"Now you know how many tears we have shed for your transient glory, how we have annihilated ourselves, wasted our days, and sat in emptiness waiting for old age."_

_"Arturia, please, I have to go."_

_"I'm so sorry."_

_"Had I not been a loyal subject, but hated you as a human ... Perhaps, I could have saved that woman!"_

_Saved that woman._

_Saved that man._

_Saved by that man._

_Saved by-_

_The pitch waters forced their way into Arturia's throat and she drowned in black hatred and sorrow. Another memory splashed its way against her eyes, far from her previous recollections that cradled her in a comforting calm eye of the storm. No, now she was clearly wounded; she wondered which point in her history this was, for it was blurry and she could not find the strength to move. A armored protector stood in front of her, his back upright, his golden greaves clanking together as he stood his ground. Arturia lay in the arms of an unseen companion, shaking her, begging her to rise. And the sun- it was so bright- no. There was the moon, and a company of stars above her. And yet there were ripples of blinding amber light everywhere, laced with silver lines emerging forth with such a force that it shook the ground. Were they shooting stars? Was the very sky falling from above. Arturia desperately tried to raise her sword, yet found her fingers would not yield to her will. Then, her protector spoke-_

_"You cursed worm dare to even wish your gaze upon this treasure should mean your demise, and now you demand I hand her to you willingly." The man's armor sounded of bells when he shifted his weight. "Your utter destruction will bring me little satisfaction unless every droplet of blood, every splinter of bone, every fiber of your pathetic soul is wiped from existence!"_   
_"No, do not keep me from my Jeanne! Gaaaaah!"_

_The man's voice grew loud and violent, and the golden light shone brighter and harsher. The barrage of silver stars collided with the ground out of the corner of Arturia's eyes, what little she could see. Clouds of earth rose from the air. The waves and winds of the storm still whirled in Arturia's ears even while this memory filled her eyes. The man who had previously been facing away now turned. His face was obscured from her vision as he spoke to the one who held her._

_"You are the one who commands my greatest treasure?"_

_"Well-" A small voice breathed as softly as a breeze, so softly, Arturia barely heard it. "I- I provide Saber-with the mana necessary to maintain her existence and fight in this world-" She sounded scared. "Why did you do that for us? Who are you?"_

_The armored man scoffed._

_"You mongrels still know nothing of my grandeur. Figures."_

_The one who held Arturia began to tremble._

_"If you are going to kill us, just do it! I'll have none of your arrogant banter if you mean to trod on me as if I were the scum of the earth."_

_The man hummed._

_"While that may be true, I have no intention of ending your pathetic life. I came here for a reason, and I intend to see it to the end. Hand her to me."_

_"What?"_   
_A spark of lightning struck Arturia, sending her further into the waters. And this time, she did not surface for a long time._

"Saber, please wake up!" A soft bell-like voice spoke through the storm. "Kiritsugu, can you use a Command Seal to wake her?"

"I don't know."

Arturia's eyes flew open with a green flash and she jolted up with a violent gasp.

"Eep!" Irisviel cried out. "Saber, you're hurting me!"

Arturia realized she had dug her nails into Irisviel's arms and immediately pulled back, taking in huge gulps of cold air. She was- back in the mansion? She gratefully noted that she was was clothed, wore her armor, and was dry. And all was quiet apart from her staggered, shallow breathing.

"Calm down," said Kiritsugu. "You're fine now."

"What happened?" Arturia demanded. "What happened to me?"

Irisviel exchanged looks with her husband before taking a deep breath.

"You collapsed on the road after expending all of your mana to transform into your armor," she said.

"But-" Arturia did not understand. "How could that happen? You were right there; you could have provided me with more easily."

"Whatever Caster did to you," said Kiritsugu, "it resulted in your spirit being unable to replenish mana and ultimately rejected Irie's supply."

Arturia's eyes widened in horror. Her body just flat out rejected mana?

"I've never heard of a Caster class Servant being able to do that," her master continued.

"I don't believe he did," said Irisviel. "He was just as perplexed as I was. He kept calling you, Jeanne." Arturia flinched, but the pains did not resume. "No doubt he was referring to you as Joan of Arc, and if he were Gille de Rais, then that gives us an advantage. We know who he is, his history, and what he could be capable of." She frowned. "But it still does not explain how you collapsed like you did."

Arturia was unable to even begin to comprehend what kind of night Irisviel must have gone through. She cursed herself for abandoning her like that, but then a thought occurred to her.

"Wait," she said. "If I just lost consciousness, and Caster was clearly there for me in one way or another-" She met Irisviel's ruby gaze. "How did you get out of there alive? How did you escape?"

She looked up at Kiritsugu who shook his head. There then came an unattached voice from behind her on the other side of the room,

"Because I was not about to allow that monstrous creature ravage my lioness."

Arturia's jaw dropped, refusing to believe what she was hearing; "No..."

She slowly contorted herself from where she lay on the couch to see, standing in the corner-

Still clad in his shining armor, his earrings rung a little as he turned, and his smile caused a shiver to run down her spine.

"Hello Arturia."

* * *

 

_Uruk_

Arturia had not allowed anyone, not even Lancelot, to see her in what she wore now. Since the king of this land had insisted, she could do little more than spitefully comply.

She rarely saw her own reflection; once in a bucket of water when she was a child, another time when she first gazed upon Excalibur when it was still in the stone, and now, in the strange "mirror" that stared back at her.

Now, she looked completely alien; she did not know the woman looking at her. She was clearly a woman, adorned with a dress so light that she hardly felt it, save for where it hung by a gold ring around her neck, and hugged her waist with a thin leather belt.

She had been given an assortment of gold jewelry to decorate her pale Celtic skin, but she had politely denied them, leaving them to shimmer gracefully in the late afternoon sun that peaked through the silk curtains of her room. This was the most exposed she ever felt. Never had she dressed as a girl until now.

The door to her chambers cracked open and Arturia whipped around, clutching the sharpest object near her- a hair pin. There stood a small boy at the door. He could not have been more than twelve.

"I am here to take you to the king, sir," he said, clutching the door frame.

Sir? Arturia's eyebrows furrowed. Was the child blind? Could he not see the small breasts under the thin fabric? The gown? Arturia approached the boy, peering at him cautiously. He stared straight forward. It was only after she got close that she saw his clouded eyes.

He was, indeed, blind.

"Uh- yes," said Arturia, taking a moment to regain her composure. "Take me to him."

Despite the boy's handicap, he managed to weave his way down every corridor and hall with ease. Arturia was impressed, not only with the boy's ability, but with her host's effort to respect her secret among his people. That did not mean, however, that she turned a blind eye to the possible hidden agenda. That, she did consider. They passed no one in the halls, and the guards that were posted at the king's quarters had their backs turned with helmets that blinded their vision.

The great doors opened without a creak, well oiled, well tended to. They only made one sound, the quiet drum of them closing behind Arturia, leaving her in a place that left her just breathless.

She was not in a bed chamber, which she half expected, or a council hall. The orange evening light tinted the green that surrounded her. A light warm breeze fluttered the leaves and the flowers, and they whispered through Arturia's hair that had been let down for once, brushing her shoulders like tiny curtains.

The garden stretched further than she could see. Only a few pieces of furniture were set among the abundant flora.

"Ohh..." The breath left her lips like water through a spring, unkempt but gentle. She was so mesmerized that it took a moment for her small fantasy to be shattered.

The familiar low chuckle came from her right. She had not even noticed him there, lounging on a lavish couch, a cup of wine in one hand, the waist of a beautiful girl in the other. Arturia blinked a few times, unable to clear her head of the intoxicating scent of the flowers. She was about to protest in fear of the girl seeing who she was, but then she noticed that the girl was blindfolded, blindfolded and giggling in anticipation. Then Arturia was about to protest for an entirely different reason.

"Jiadi loves this sort of play," said Gilgamesh, reaching up to give a light tug on the ornate scarf that covered the girl's eyes. "It can be quite fun to- play with the senses, cut them off or make them sharper." He leaned in and kissed Jiadi's neck, causing her to shiver and grin. "It does wonders in bed."

Arturia had looked away out of sheer instinct and chivalry for the poor girl's honor. She only heard a short exchange between Gilgamesh and the- concubine? Wife? At any rate, Jiadi was escorted out, still blindfolded, by the small boy from before. The silence stiffened Arturia's bones after only she and the king remained. It felt awkward to her, unbearably so. She had never been alone with a man in this manner, and the foreign sensations made her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Quite useful to have a girl with- unusual tastes," said Gilgamesh. "You never know when a secret will walk in on you."

"You summoned me, sir," Arturia said with as much composure as she could muster. "You clearly knew I would arrive. It was no surprise."

"I like to show off." Gilgamesh raised his wine with a confident gesture to his surroundings. "And this is the most private area in all of the palace. You should thank me for putting this much consideration into preserving your little lie, girl."

"If you would stop referring to me as a girl, I will gladly thank you."

"Show gratitude, and I will stop calling you that."

Arturia bit her tongue, for she would have rather tasted the blood that welled in her cheeks than show this arrogant tyrant any gratitude, which would then leave an ashen sensation in her mouth.

"I am grateful for the lengths you went to to respect and preserve my secret." She swallowed the blood that pooled behind her tongue. "Your efforts have not gone unnoticed."

"There!" Gilgamesh bounced up from his lounge. "Now what would you like me to call you?"

"Arthur."

Gilgamesh frowned, and then gave a sly grin, setting down his cup.

"That's not your name, girl."

"I said-"

"Arthur is not your name, so I will not call you that." He crossed his arms. "It doesn't befit a beautiful girl like you."

"I am not a girl!"

"How old are you?"

This caught Arturia off guard. She saw his reasoning, but it still angered her.

"You may call me Arturia," she said, not bothering to answer his previous question. "And you wanted to speak with me in private. We are in private, and I even humored your request to dress like this." She gestured timidly to herself. "Now speak, the sun is almost gone."

Gilgamesh slowly approached Arturia.

"I work best in the moonlight," he said with the same sly grin he wore before. His long robe hung off one shoulder, embroidered with red, and on any exposed limb hung a gold bracelet or necklace. Heavy gold earrings swung back and forth as he walked closer. Arturia swallowed another cheek full of blood and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop the bleeding.

"I came here to seek help for my people, to gain forces to ward off a man who thinks my kingdom is his to take." She stood her ground and did not even waver at the king's fiery gaze. "So I must ask you: Are you mature enough to negotiate with another king or have I wasted my time here?"

The sudden look on Gilgamesh's face empowered her. She would not let this man belittle her for anything else.

"No woman has ever spoken to me as you have, Arturia." His look of shock faded into one of amusement. "You have an entertaining fire in you. Come, let's walk."

He spoke no more of Arturia's appearance or her sex, though she did occasionally catch him tracing his gaze up and down her figure. The two of them walked through the garden at a leisurely pace, discussing primarily what Arturia needed for her armies. Gilgamesh then conveyed what he could offer.

"Well of course my troops could contribute the fighting skill of properly trained soldiers, and they can be provided with their own rations and commanding officers. I can donate rations for your men as well."

"That is awfully generous to provide for more men than you command."

"You clearly don't know the definition of an army, Arturia. Your men will hardly make a dent in my reserves."

"Have you ever aided any warring countries before?"

"Rarely, but only because my kingdom would have been the next to be attacked. It always has something to do with religion."

"Do you not have a god?" asked Arturia.

"The last deity to cross my path had the only man I would have ever considered my friend and equal killed because I defied her pursuit of me. I have not any desire to converse with any more gods for as long as I live."

Arturia glanced up at the king. His eyes had dulled just a little as he seemed to stare at something, not the flowers or the view of the city. It was as if he gazed upon something that was not there. His lips pressed into a tight, tense line. Arturia sense that this pain was still fresh and chose not to speak, as it was not her place.

"I am sure you are wondering why I would even think twice about aiding your small, insignificant island-country, especially when Willaime would not dare trod into my land. I have nothing to lose from this western feud."

"I am prepared to do anything," Arturia said without missing a beat. "You are the last hope for me and my people, and I will, if need be, die trying to repay you."

Gilgamesh halted suddenly, leaving Arturia to walk a few steps more before turning back to him. He bore a look of disbelief, almost anger.

"What?" said Arturia.

"You would give up your life, a life that your title claims you above all others-"

"I claim no such thing."

"You do if you declare yourself king."

"I am king because I was deemed worthy by a divine right. That does not make me greater than any man who serves me."

Gilgamesh crossed his arms again and narrowed his eyes. Arturia's face felt hot under the man's unwavering gaze.

"So," said Gilgamesh, "you would be willing to do anything, anything to ensure Britannia survives and thrives." He paused, eyebrows furrowed. "Even die?"

"For my people, I would gladly draw my last breath."

A heavy silence fell between the two kings. Nothing but the breeze and birds made a noise.

"Well, thank your gods, Arturia." Gilgamesh grinned. "I would never think of taking a life as entertaining as yours."

Arturia blinked.

"Entertaining?"

"You are, without doubt, the fiercest woman I have ever encountered. I am surrounded by obedient servant girls and concubines all day, most of them untouched and oh so innocent- well until they came before me."

Something unsettling stirred in the pit of Arturia's stomach, but she was not about to question the man's moral compass now. That was for another day, if ever.

"What is it that you desire?" she asked. The smile that spread across Gilgamesh's face made her heart drop with sick anticipation.

"You look as if I'm about to demand your virtue." Gilgamesh scoffed. "You can wipe that charming blush from your cheeks, Arturia. That's not what I want."

"Then-"

"Your land is said to hold the resting place of the relic I desire. A one Holy Grail."

Arturia was surprised at this, but it did not catch her completely off guard.

"It is said so, but we have not found it."

"But you were looking for it before the Bastard decided he wanted your island. I can disperse that army of his and you can continue your holy quest. But I want the Grail."

"Then it is yours."

Gilgamesh was prepared to be immediately rejected, so as he had begun to form an argument, or invoke his charm. His mouth hung open with unspoken words stuck in his throat. The noise he made as a resort was odd, almost amusing.

"Wait, really?"

Arturia nodded.

"What use is a holy relic to my people when they are starving and dying at the blades of my enemies? Religion is not for the dead."

Gilgamesh closed his mouth and nodded, saying nothing. He was impressed.

"For a girl, you bear quite a burden," he said. "How do you carry it all on your own?"

"I just do." Arturia's voice was resolved and calm, and yet she held power in her stance. "Are you satisfied? Will you assist me?"

"I believe I will," said Gilgamesh. "Very well. We can go over logistics tomorrow." He turned back to the entrance to the gardens. "Shall you share a drink with me?"

Arturia considered saying no, but after all the hospitality she had already been shown, she nodded and followed him back to the sitting area.

* * *

 

 **A/N** : I felt like being nice and posting this chapter a little sooner than I usually update. Hope you enjoyed <3


	6. Rising in the North

_Lothian* Scottland, several months earlier_

A young woman sat in her keep, waiting for a certain someone someone to appear before her. She occupied herself by organizing the table of vials and other containers before her. Various potions and liquified spells, cursed gasses and curious scrolls sealed in violet wax were scattered about the room. The woman's long and slender fingers handled most items with care. Sometimes she bit her lip when handling an item. She took one bottle in hand and ran her thumb thoughtfully over the label: "Essence of the Serpent."

"Hmm," she hummed to herself, a small grin curling across her lips. As she looked at the component, the air in the room grew suddenly electric and hot in the room. The area between her legs began to stir in a way that normally took the effort of her husband. This was the effect of the mere presence of the eastern goddess that appeared before her.

"You completed your task very swiftly," said the deity called Ishtar. "I half expected you to take your sweet time."

The woman placed the vial in a drawer and then turned to the goddess.

"You blessed me with many strong sons," she said, bowing her head respectfully. "Most people would not think to pray to a goddess that may have more than one name."

"You're wise beyond your human capacity," Ishtar said sincerely, a tone most rare with her. "Most in these regions refer to me as Damara or Brigid**." She frowned. "I may dabble in these regions but I do prefer the weathers of the east- not so much for its company."

The human woman smirked.

"I gathered that ever since you gave me that task." She grinned. "And now I shall live forever, correct?"

Ishtar chuckled, her sultry voice stirring something strange in the woman's gut. She crossed her legs instinctively.

"I would say I am sorry for the effect that I have on mortals," said Ishtar. "But then I would be lying." She paused. "But of course, you are stronger than most, Morgana. I imagine your husband knows little about that?"

The woman made a face at the mention of her husband, King Loth.

Ishtar pressed her lips together and began to pace around the lady's chambers.

"I came to you in order to better ensure the destruction of one who refused me and mocked my name as a god. And you are by far the most incredible human I have ever blessed in this era. You are wise beyond your years, you are well educated, you have royal blood and your powers are great."

Morgana observed Ishtar as she glided about; her bright curls bounced ever so lightly, pouring over her olive skin that seemed to have a gold sheen to it. The goddess passed by a potted plant, whose buds were weakly forming in the early stages spring. An abundance of flowers bloomed in the presence of the god, as did a cloud of pollen fill the air.

"In turn," Ishtar continued. "You would gain the time and opportunity to destroy your enemy." She grinned. "Now, it would appear that our goals are more intertwined than we had anticipated."

Morgana raised an eyebrow.

"I merely intend to save Britannia from a foolish king. But how do you propose we do so?"

"Your bastard brother," Ishtar's voice bounced with every word, "now seeks help for his people, and he seeks it from King Gilgamesh himself."

Morgana's jaw dropped and then she smiled, suddenly more interested than before.

"Is he now?"

"Indeed. The great sovereign of Britannia, seeking assistance from the east. I must say it is a humble move on his part."

"This may work to our advantage," said Morgana. "Since I devoured that plant that Gilgamesh recovered from the watery depths, his spirit may still be broken. What could he possibly gain from aiding this bleak and cloudy land? What does King Arthur have that even the most powerful ruler across the sea could remotely crave enough to assist him in the fight against the French Bastard?"

Ishtar turned to face Morgana. As the mortal spoke, a glimpse of her small fangs peaked out from behind her lips. The spell still had lingering effects from when she had cast it a few moons ago.

"I have not paid enough heed to Gilgamesh's desires of late ever since I turned his little friend into clay for killing my bull." She brushed some of her curls behind her shoulder. "But if Britannia has any means to achieve immortality, he will crave it."

Well learned in all the known relics in the records of man, Morgana immediately knew what the eastern king would come to crave. She grinned wide to display her serpent's fangs.

"I know what he wants."

* * *

 

_Fuyuki, Tohsaka Mansion_

Tohsaka Tokiomi had just received the message from the church that the war was to be put on hold until Caster and his Master were eliminated. A chill ran down his spine when he thought of all the children that had been reported missing. He knew they were dead, and it was up to he and the other Masters to bring the murderous psychopaths to an end.

It had been a few hours since Assassin had reported to him that his Servant had disappeared from his lounge upon hearing the news of Saber and Caster. He sunk into his chair and looked at the box that held the fossilized snake skin, the catalyst he used to summon Gilgamesh.

"Hmm," he hummed to himself. He wondered if he should summon his Servant back here or let him be for a while. Gilgamesh was nearly impossible to command; if anything it was a constant one-sided negotiation with the greatest king that ever ruled. Tokiomi wished all the tablets of Gilgamesh's tale had been preserved, so he could decipher what caused the king so much attention towards the Saber Servant.

Footsteps caught his attention and he could only assume who sought an audience with him.

"Kirei," he said matter-of-factually when his apprentice entered the room. "I have something to ask of you and Assassin."

"Yes?" replied the former-clergyman in a solemn tone. "Something to do with Archer?"

"Is it that obvious?" he exhaled, sitting back in his chair resignedly. "Well, yes. I would like for one of the Assassins to keep a watchful eye on my Servant. I cannot have him being too independent. I am just humoring his illusions of grandeur for now. But I need to know how to manipulate him without angering him, and finding out his connection to Saber might improve my odds."

Kirei nodded.

"As you wish."

He needed not speak to his Servant. They always understood his will through his thoughts. The smallest of the Assassins, a small girl, heeded his call and made her way to the bright pulse of mana that Gilgamesh emitted. The path led her to the territory of the Einzbern castle. She navigated past the magical-trip-wire of sorts that was mean to alert the residents of intruders. But as an Assassin class, she found it easy to discover a loop hole; the barrier was only so high, not higher than the tallest tree in the grounds. Her dark body concealed her among the woods as she raced towards the bright aura coming from one of the higher windows of the castle. Scaling a stone wall such as that was no difficult feat for her. She pulled herself up onto the ledge, went incorporeal, and sneaked inside.

* * *

 

_Camelot, a few weeks earlier_

"You are his queen, he will at least listen to you."

"You confuse my role as woman..."

Guinevere waited until she and the knight had ridden far away from any straining ears before she continued, "My place is not higher than yours, Sir. The full responsibility of a queen is to act as a steward when the king is away-" She trailed off for a moment. "- and to provide an heir."

Her voice shook a little, and she could hear the leather on Sir Lancelot's gloves squeeze together as he tightened his grip on the reins.

"You are a _temperament_ woman, my queen," he said quietly. "However, I cannot help but feel you bear an unusual and heavy burden." He turned to meet her gaze. "Do you disagree?"

Guinevere did not answer. Instead she took a moment to let the chilled early spring air cool her face. It stirred her amber curls and blew across her bare wrists, giving her a small moment of what she imagined heaven would be like: Peaceful, quiet. Serenity.

"My Queen?"

Guinevere blinked out of her daze and met Lancelot's gaze.

"Do you disagree with me?"

She gave a small sad smile.

"These days, I tend to count my blessings more often than my burdens."

"You should not have to," said Lancelot. "You deserve happiness. You deserve bett-"

He stopped short, swallowed hard, and then clearing his throat.

"I am happy," said Guinevere. "I am well provided for, and I am surrounded by kind people. I get to go riding in the sunshine with a devoted knight by my side and enjoy his company."

Lancelot averted his eyes, clearly not convinced.

"Come," she continued. "I wish to ride along the river today."

Without allowing Lancelot to respond, she snapped the reins and took off into the east, the knight quick to catch up, and quick to be caught up in the sight of her curls dancing in the wind behind her.

* * *

 

_Fuyuki, Einzbern Castle_

"How do you know that name?" was the first thing that Arturia said to Gilgamesh after seeing him. She stood up so quickly that the couch recoiled from the force. Irisviel, who had been sitting there as well, rocked back and held the armrest to catch herself.

"Who are you?" Arturia demanded loudly, approaching him while summoning her hidden sword. "And what do you want?" She shot her furious and unforgiving gaze towards her Master. "Why is he here? And still alive!"

"Saber, quell your battle rage," said Kiritsugu. "This Servant- for whatever reason, saved your life and Irisviel's. At least show him some gratitude, even if you don't want to." He glanced at Irisviel who nodded approvingly. "Even if I don't want to either," he added, narrowing his eyes at the foreign Servant.

"I would rather bite my own tongue off than show gratitude to this arrogant cur," she spat, turning only briefly to glance at her Master. She kept a watchful eye on Gilgamesh otherwise, even while she dismissed Excalibur. Gilgamesh's grin trembled for a moment, his eyes twitched as if in pain. Arturia narrowed her eyes.

"Archer," said Irisviel. "I do thank you for rescuing Saber and I from Caster. But we are all very confused, and understandably cautious. If you would explain to us-"

"I hardly ever offer explanation to those below me," said Gilgamesh, his arms still crossed, and his gaze still on Arturia. "However, if Arturia were to ask, I would be more than happy to offer her my words." He tilted his head up just a bit. "And I demand some privacy with Arturia to do so."

"Absolutely not!" Arturia barked the second the words left his mouth. "Kiritsugu, you of all people should know that this could be a trap."

Gilgamesh groaned in annoyance and with a flash of blinding light, his armor completely vanished, leaving him standing there with a loose fitting white shirt and snake skin pants. Arturia scoffed- he still wore heavy gold jewelry on each limb and his neck, of course.

"If he can transform that quickly, than he can easily switch back and run me through with any of his thousands of blades."

"Millions really," Gilgamesh corrected her; Arturia glared at him with a flare in her eyes. "At any rate, I could kill all of you without my armor right now, but I am not going to. If I wanted any of you dead now, you would be. You might as well humor your king and allow me some council with my queen."

" _I am not your queen_!" Arturia roared, summoning Excalibur once more, and in the blink of an eye, shoved against Gilgamesh, pinning him to the wall and sticking the edge of the blade against his throat. Excalibur scraped against the gold beads around his neck and a small cyclones of wind whirled around the unseen steel, blowing Gilgamesh's earrings about.

"Kiritsugu, I can eliminate this fool right now, and you will be one step closer to achieving your ideals," she snarled, boring her emerald gaze into the florid eyes that looked back down at her. His breath grew ragged despite his efforts to keep his composure.

"You're right, Saber," said Kiritsugu. "Archer has practically signed his death away to you. He isn't fighting back." He raised an eyebrow at Gilgamesh. "It's curious, but convenient."

"Saber..." Irisviel's voice was not much more than a small squeak. "...just..."

Kiritsugu sat back in a chair next to the couch and crossed his legs.

"If you feel like any information this Servant has is irrelevant than kill him. Don't let me stop you."

Arturia faced Gilgamesh once more and tightened her grip on her sword.

* * *

 

*Lothian is a region of the Scottish Lowlands, neighboring supposedly where King Arthur ruled in Post-Roman Britannia

**Damara was a goddess of fertility worshiped in ancient Britain while Brigid was the Irish version.


	7. Kiss of Strength

_Uruk_

"He wants what?!"

Lancelot's voice boomed about Arturia's chambers, even louder and longer because of the tall ceiling. Never would it have been this loud in Camelot.

"Be still, Lancelot," Arturia snapped. "I do not see why this is such a dilemma for you."

Lancelot walked up to Arturia and stared her down, taking advantage of the height difference.

"You mean to give the holy cup, into which Christ bled, to this heathen king that desires nothing but eternal youth?" His face grew red. "Have you lost your dammed mind?" He sputtered.

Arturia drew in a deep breath, clearly not intimidated by his height.

"You would do well to keep your wailings from waking the entire palace," she hissed. "We are humble guests!"

" _Then let them wake_!" Lancelot yelled, throwing his voice high to the ceiling. "I care not for these people and their king. I care for my people, our people!"

"As do I, friend," said Arturia. "And this is the best way that I've gathered to save them." She relaxed her shoulders and took another calming breath. "The Holy Grail means nothing to the common people with a God who will not answer their prayers for a savior."

There was a silence between them, with nothing but the breath of the night to pass by their ears.

"You must trust me as you once did, my friend," said Arturia. "I am doing this for our people. Why else would I? I care for this man no more than you do."

"You certainly dressed yourself differently to see him in private."

Arturia groaned and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"This was upon his request. I had no say."

Lancelot sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. He took a moment to calm down and then met Arturia's gaze, realizing that he had crossed a line.

"You-you are right," he said. "I have behaved neither as your knight nor as your friend, and both should be more credulous towards you." He winced lightly. "I am simply very concerned."

"I know," Arturia placed her hand on his shoulder. "I worry for Britannia every day and I should know that you do too, but let this not be a burden on yourself. You are not king; you would not wish to be one in these times."

Lancelot saw so many things in his king's eyes: Love, concern, sadness, and most of all, fatigue. She was tired, probably had been for a long time. Guilt overcame him.

"You are a curious soul, Arturia Pendragon."

He smiled lightly and pulled his friend into a tight embrace, something he had not done in a very long time.

"You are a curious woman and a curious king, and I will defend that curiosity until the end."

"Thank you, Lancelot," said Arturia as she rested her head against his chest. "Let this not affect our days of old, alright? We must not let troubling times shake our bond together."

They pulled away and Lancelot let out a once troubled breath, turning into a relieved sigh.

"Now, if you wish to stay any longer, I must ask that you turn around," said Arturia. "I would very much like to change out of this- thin dress."

Lancelot held his hands up and then turned around to give his king privacy. It was not as if her feminine form had been a mystery to him, but the chivalry that had been embedded in his mind since childhood overtook him. And it was not hard to concentrate on other things while he waited: The sun warming Britannia's grass, reflecting off dark curls and a beautiful face from far away that he missed. He wished to see her lips smile and was suddenly lost in an endless fantasy.

* * *

 

_Einzbern Castle_

Arturia's master had given her the chance to finish off Gilgamesh at her leisure. But a heavy silence hung in the air as everyone waited. Gilgamesh watched her, the smirk had been wiped clean from his face. He knew that there was very little other than her force that could keep Excalibur from cleaving his head from his shoulders right then and there, not even how he felt for Arturia. With a sigh and a pain in his chest that registered in his eyes, he leaned his head back further, exposing himself to Arturia.

"A death by your hand would be a beautiful one by far, Arturia," he said. "I refuse to fight the greatest treasure that ever came into my possession."

Arturia's eyes burned, but as Gilgamesh glanced down, he saw them smolder, and then she appeared to douse her anger behind her eyelids and then dropped her invisible blade.

"Master," she said, her head down. "If you will allow it, I should like to know what this fool claims to know."

Arturia's Master exchanged a look with his wife and then made for the door. The woman followed, but not before meeting Gilgamesh's gaze with a strange look in her eyes. Was it pity? Gratitude? Whatever it had been, it was gone as soon as she left.

"Who are you?" Arturia whispered harshly. "What do you want with me?"

"You really don't remember," said Gilgamesh. "I can't believe-"

"Your true name, Archer!" Arturia snapped. His lips twitched.

"My name is Gilgamesh," he said after taking a breath to compose himself once more. He stood tall without Arturia bearing down on him now.

"And how-ah!"

It was as if the name hit her like a blow to the head. She recoiled away from him, clutching her ears. Gilgamesh jumped, suddenly confused. He had not touched her, yet she leaped back as if stricken.

"Arturia?" he said cautiously, inching towards her, and then jumped to her as she crumbled to her knees. "Arturia, what are you-"

Her groans of pain lingered in his ears and he wished desperately to end them. He clutched at her face, forcing her to look up at him through whatever hell she was experiencing. Her eyes clouded over in a green haze, like emerald storm clouds blinding her from the world, from him.

"Arturia!" he cried again, pressing his thumbs against her cheeks. "Don't-"

Arturia cried out in pain, her body going rigid. Her breath grew shallow and forced. There was nothing Gilgamesh could do.

"Don't use any mana," he commanded with urgency. "Don't you dare do it."

He could feel the power growing in her nonetheless, this strange impulse to gather strength for battle, the same thing that had rendered her incapacitated in front of Caster. She was going to do it again. A vortex began to swirl about them, her armor glowed, and Excalibur appeared in her lap.

"You'll exhaust your mana again, you fool, stop it!"

In a desperate act to keep her awake, to keep her mana level above critical, Gilgamesh prepared himself and then crushed his lips to hers. His own mana flowed from his lips like honey into her skin, creating a gold sheen across her skin that spread from her face, down her neck, through her arms and flashing at her fingertips.

He would not let her collapse again, yet he could not help but take in her scent as he kissed her, recalling sweet ancient memories. Excalibur disappeared and Arturia suddenly halted her trembling; the clouds cleared from her eyes. She inhaled sharply and immediately went for Gilgamesh's throat, pinning him to the ground under her grip.

"Don't touch me!" she screeched, her breath still ragged. She had no idea what he had done for her, but at least she had enough sense not to re-summon her armor. Gilgamesh pried her hands from around his neck and tossed her over, taking the power and putting her beneath him, even if simply to keep her from strangling him like a damned dog.

"Calm yourself for gods' sake!" he said, annoyance clearly in his tone. "If I had known you would have tried to kill me than I wouldn't have-" He paused. "-actually no, I probably still would have kissed you."

He let go of her wrists and jumped back just in time to avoid being clocked in the jaw.

"Now do you remember me?'

Arturia leaped to her feet, holding Excalibur tightly. Gilgamesh had not seen her summon it again.

"Get out, Gilgamesh," she said. "Leave, or I _will_ kill you."

"Arturia..."

"Please!" she snapped. "Leave!"

It was the "please" that caught Gilgamesh off guard. He looked at her silently, narrowed his eyes, and then said, "You do remember _something_."

"Leave!" Arturia raised her sword, but Gilgamesh just smirked, hope rising in his chest.

"You cannot deny it forever, my lioness," he said. "You'll have to embrace it eventually. And you're welcome for the extra mana."

With those final words, he disappeared in a flash of cold.

* * *

 

_Uruk_

The next day was a short one, but only because the recording of the kings' negotiations took a small part of the morning. The scribes wrote up the treaty, and the kings signed it and it was all sealed together.

"There," said Gilgamesh, placing his hand on Arturia's shoulder. "Now we may enjoy the day while my generals prepare their men. Come, let's converse for a while."

Arturia tried not to shy away from the king's touch. The idea of spending more time than was needed with him was painful, but she reflected on the wise words that Sir Bedivere spoke when they first entered Uruk,

"You may not enjoy it, my king," he had said, "but it would be beneficial for you to become acquainted with Gilgamesh, even if it is just to gain his favor. A powerful leader such as he may make a powerful ally in the future.

Arturia thanked God for the company of her knights and their advice.

"I would like for my knights to join us," she requested. "I am sure they could provide excellent company.

Gilgamesh shrugged.

"If you wish," he said with a smile.

They later found themselves in a different room, still large and heavily ornamented, but clearly meant for luxury and comfort, not war and diplomacy.

"Oh what a shame," smirked Enkidu as he lounged on one of the many pillows that filled the room. "You don't have her all dressed up anymore."

Gilgamesh tried to ignore him and pay attention to one of Arturia's knights who had been telling a legitimately interesting story.

"...and I swear," Sir Gawain continued, "if I had not gone back to check on his horse, Gaheris would have been green-faced and leaning over a chamber pot for a month!"

Laughter echoed all around. Even Enkidu laughed, "Good story."

"So how could _you_ tell the difference in the two plants?" asked Gilgamesh.

"Well, I've studied herbs my whole life," said Gawain. "But it even took me one unfortunate mistake to learn my lesson and to learn to look out for my brothers and my son."

Gilgamesh listened, sincerely interested in the British mongrel's way of life.

"Does that son of yours still have a mother, Sir Gawain?"

"Yes, your majesty. And thank God she is still alive and well." Gilgamesh could see his eyes glaze over with pure infatuation. "Although it would take a lot more than Williame's advances to break her, even these days."

"Oh? Strong woman?"

"That's because she's one of them faye types," said Gareth, nudging his brother. "Don't look at me like that, Gawain. You should be proud to call Ragnelle your own."

"Ah, but she is her own, brother," said Gawain. "It is because of that that the spell upon her was broken, remember?"

Gilgamesh heard Arturia laugh softly; he assumed it was at his own expression.

" _That_ sounds like another story entirely," he said. "Is magic _that_ prominent in your land?"

"That is mainly because of the presence of the fairies," said Sir Bedivere. "They are abundant in Britannia."

"Is that so?" said Enkidu, as if he were part of the discussion. "Hey Gil, I wonder if their little king there- think she might be one of 'em? The faye types?" Gilgamesh shot him a glare. "Don't give me that look. I'm simply stating what you're thinking."

"Your majesty?"

Gilgamesh blinked a few times and looked back at Sir Bedivere. He played off the glare by calling over a servant girl who had been in his line of sight.

"Bring some more wine for my guests," he said. "I feel it's only appropriate with stories such as these."

"Surely you have many adventures of your own to share," said Arturia, with something that represented a sly smile on her small lips.

"Oh, I believe she may be challenging you," said Enkidu, chuckling. "I like her."

"You're correct, _Arthur_ ," said Gilgamesh, meeting her spring gaze. "But there will be plenty of time for stories of my own, especially after I take your land back for you."

Arturia nodded, the smile gone from her face.

"Sir Gawain," he said, returning his attention to the knight. "Tell me about this spell on your wife. I am interested in the magic of your land."

* * *

 

_Einzbern Castle_

Kiritsugu could sense Saber's stress from afar, but it disappeared as soon as it had appeared, so most likely, it had probably been nothing. He did not worry too much about such a powerful Servant.

The night air was cold and bit at his ears and nose, but still, he remained, leaning against the wall that overlooked the castle grounds. He never thought a war could feel this peaceful at times. It was like the calm before a storm.

"Kiritsugu..."

He did not have to tear his gaze from the forest to know Irisviel's voice, kind and soft as ever. She slowly approached him, probably about to offer some reassuring words of support, but he had things on his mind.

"This war is more complex than I had ever anticipated," he admitted. "I was not counting on Servants having a history, much less not _remembering_ that history."

Irisviel was quiet for a moment, but then replied, "Perhaps it is simply a test from the Grail. It allowed certain items to become catalysts for Heroic Spirits, so it had to have known the risks of bringing so many people from the same time period into one War." She paused. "Something else is troubling you."

Kiritsugu hugged his arms tightly against his body as he leaned over the wall.

"If..." He swallowed hard, refusing to meet her gaze. "If I decided right here to abandon this-this war and run away, would you come with me, Iri?"

Irisviel's face scrunched a bit in confusion. Where had this come from?

"What about Ilya?" she asked. "What about our daughter? She's still back in Germany!"

"I'll return for her and kill anyone who stands in my way." Kiritsugu did not hesitate in his reply. "And then...and then I can take care of you and Ilya for the rest of our lives..."

He stood up straight, looking at the stars. He wondered where they could go where they would be safe, where his past would no longer haunt them.

"Do you think we could escape?" Irisviel said to his surprise.

"It's not too late. We-"

He felt Irisviel press into his back as she embraced him from behind. She clutched him tightly, laying her cheek against his shoulder blades.

"You're lying," she said softly. "I know you could never run away from this. You would never forgive yourself for abandoning the Grail after you've come all this way. You would be turning your back on the world, and be the first and last to place judgement on yourself. It would kill you."

Kiritsugu listened to his wife. He could hear the tears in her voice, the desperation to say what she really wanted, a family to take care of, not a world to save. But she had committed to his ideals since the beginning and would never abandon him, even if it meant her very own demise.

"I'm scared," he said quietly. "Maiya told me that Kirei Kotomine is after me, that he used Kayneth as bait to bring me out where I was vulnerable. He knows how I fight, how I function." He swallowed the sob coming up from his throat. "I've already had to force you to make sacrifices, to leave Ilya behind. And yet I do not feel any more relieved that she is not here to witness the death that is soon to come."

"You're not in this by yourself, my love," said Irisviel, clutching him tighter. "I will do everything I can to protect you. And you have Saber as well."

"How will I know if her loyalties remains if there may be other contenders in this war that could compromise it?"

"She will be loyal," Irisviel reassured. "She is a knight and-"

She stopped mid sentence and gasped as her body shook from a surge of power.

"Kiritsugu..."

"An attack?" he assumed, immediately alert and ready to fight. "Maiya has not left; that's good. We can fight them head on."

"Kiritsugu," she said. "I know this presence." She met his gaze, her eyes wild with fear. "It's Caster."

* * *

 

 **A/N:** By the way, thanks again to MimiBlue (from ff.net) for beta reading this chapter.

 


	8. Innocent Blood

_Road to France, a week later_

The army marched behind the kings and their knights and generals. It would take much longer to get to Britannia than it took traveling to Uruk, and transporting an army would not exactly be a journey filled with stealth.

"We can eliminate their ranks from behind, even if they know we are approaching," said one of Gilgamesh's generals, Hadad; he had been very helpful in the preparations for the army. "When we get closer, you can take your knights and sneak back into Britannia to ready your men and we can take them from both sides."

Arturia nodded and continued to discuss strategy while Gilgamesh rode on ahead, quickly growing bored of the conversation.

"How _does_ your king stand these long treks and talks of war day in and day out?" said Gilgamesh, not bothering to even address Lancelot as he rode up next to him. "Is that why-" He glanced around, noticing that Gawain and Gaheris were close by. "- _he_ is so stone cold all the time?"

Lancelot shot him a dirty look.

"Arthur desires nothing but the salvation of his people and his country. Even if he were bothered by politics and journey, he would never dare show it. That is the kind of man he has always been. Selfless."

The image of Enkidu suddenly appeared as if he were riding behind Lancelot, but with his back to him. His long hair swished with the rhythm of the horse's tail.

"Always?" Gilgamesh shifted in his saddle, trying to ignore the haunting yet aggravating image. "How long have you known him?"

"Since we were boys," Lancelot said coldly. Gilgamesh was impressed at his ability to keep Arturia's secret with a straight face; he must have had practice.

"I wonder when this one found out his little king wasn't much between the legs," said Enkidu with a inappropriately bright smile.

"And have you known he was like _this_ since then?" Gilgamesh hoped Lancelot would receive the two faced question. With another dirty look, he assumed yes.

"Arthur has always cared for Britannia, even while he was just a squire and knew little of his fate. But after he pulled Excalibur from the stone, he gave up being human. He made a sacrifice a long time ago to never indulge in the luxuries of man so long as his country needed him."

"But he has a queen, no?" Gilgamesh egged him on. "Surely he indulges in the luxuries of his _woman_."

Enkidu burst into laughter and leaned back, his image fading through Lancelot's body. Gilgamesh blinked and looked away for a moment, trying to shake his head clear.

Lancelot inhaled sharply and turned his gaze to the king.

"Your majesty," he said with venom on his tongue. "You would do well to not speak of Queen Guinevere or King Arthur in that manner. Whatever they do in the private matters of their marriage is neither your nor my concern."

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow at the knight.

"Very well," he said. "Then just tell me about his queen. Any sons?"

His lips curled into a cruel smile as Lancelot's pressed into a thin line.

"No, they have not bore any children," he said. Before Gilgamesh could antagonize him any further, Sir Bedivere rode up to them.

"My, what an honor," he said playfully. "What brings you to ride among us humble knights?"

Enkidu stood up on the rear end of Lancelot's horse and casually stepped over to Bedivere's as if he were actually there doing some circus trick. Gilgamesh watched him for a moment.

"Your majesty?"

Gilgamesh blinked rapidly and then looked back at Sir Bedivere, trying to ignore what Enkidu was doing on the back of the horse.

"Your king is engaging in warfare with my generals and it's boring."

He ignored Lancelot's look of disgust. Bedivere simply chuckled.

"With all due respect, your majesty, this army is a desperately needed one. Britannia must not fall to the French."

"Wouldn't that just be dreadful?" said Enkidu. "Wouldn't it be better if those Romans were still here to take care of them?"

Gilgamesh shrugged and continued to ride along with the knights, blocking the spirit from his field of vision. He found himself brooding over how he had not fallen behind Arturia for a better view of her without all the meticulous conversation. But what was done was done. He wondered when Arturia was going to ask how he was able to see through her guise, but then concluded that she probably did not care. He would more than likely end up boasting about it later anyhow.

It was not long after Gilgamesh had become lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts when a screech startled him, and he looked up just in time to see some bird of prey diving towards he and the travelers. He flinched, but it went over his head and landed with grace upon the arm of the boy that regularly stayed a little bit in front of Arturia. If he recalled correctly, that was the magician boy, Thomas. What was their word for it? Wizard?

Thomas stroked the majestic bird's neck and lifted it upon his arm to examine its talons. Gilgamesh could now see it was some sort of owl.

"Word from Merlin?" said Arturia, riding up to join Thomas. The magician nodded and unrolled the small scroll that had been tied to the owl's leg. The look that came over him as he read was less than promising.

"My king," he said, his voice dry and cracking. "Lady Guinevere has been taken."

* * *

_Fuyuki_

Irisviel's delicate hands hovered around the crystal ball. The light that came from the glass made her palms appear even paler than usual. Arturia peered over her shoulder to watch what appeared in the ball. Meanwhile, Kiritsugu and Maiya were busy preparing their arsenal of firearms that would have made Japan's Self-Defense Forces cringe.

The image cleared in the crystal ball, revealing Caster. He stalked through the woods, surrounded by small children. They followed him like dolls on a string, puppets. None of them could have been older than ten.

"Irisviel," said Arturia. "The enemy is baiting us."

"They must be hostages," said Irisviel; her voice shook a little. She was clearly disturbed by this act of sorcery. Anyone would be.

"I must go save them," said Arturia. "Bait or not."

The two of them watched Caster skulk forward and then pause, and as if he knew he was being watched, looked up at them and smiled, scrunching his bulging eyes as if it were a heartfelt grin when in fact it chilled them to the bone.

"He knows!" Irisviel breathed. Then Caster started to speak,

"As promised," he began, his tone cheerful and unsettling. "I, Gille de Rais, have come for you." He bowed his head lightly. "I desire to see my Jeanne, my beautiful virgin angel."

"Irisviel-" was all Arturia could get out at the moment, for Caster continued his speech,

"You may take all the time you need, my sweet. I am prepared to wait for a very long time."

Then, with a snap of his long fingers, all the children jumped, color returned to their eyes, and there was suddenly a collected confusion, and then panic among them.

"Time to play a game of tag, my little lambs," Caster cooed. "The rules are simple: You must run away from me. And if I catch you..."

Arturia and Irisviel watched in horror as Caster grabbed a child's entire head in his grip and lifted him into the air while the children screamed and cried.

"No!" Arturia cried, but there was nothing she could do in time. The tiny skull shattered as easily as an eggshell, and blood and brain matter painted the ground. Irisviel cringed, and her hold on the crystal ball wavered. She thought of her daughter, how Ilya was no smaller than the crumpled body of that small boy.

"Now," said Caster. "Run!" The children took off as fast as their tiny legs could carry them. "You have until I count to one-hundred! So Jeanne, before I catch all these children, how long will you take to prepare?"

"Saber," said Irisviel, her voice low. "Defeat Caster for me."

"Absolutely," said Arturia, and by the time the words had left her mouth, she was gone, and all that was left was a wind of unfathomable rage.

* * *

_Road to France_

Lancelot was the first to leap to attention upon hearing of the queen's abduction. The army halted behind them at the command of their generals, and a silence fell over the land without the thousands of footsteps to drum against the ground.

"The queen is gone," said Thomas, looking at Lancelot, wary of his anger. "The message says she never returned from her evening ride, nor did her escort, only their horses."

The knights murmured briefly to each other. It was as if someone had stuck a blade between the ribs of the entire plan for Britannia's salvation. Their king reacted disturbingly little to the news, only shifting her eyes about, thinking.

"My king," said Lancelot, turning his horse to Arturia. "We must go on ahead! God only knows where the queen could be by now and every moment we lose our chances of finding her."

He grew increasingly anxious at the length it took for Arturia to come to any decision.

"The fate of Britannia rests on what marches behind us, Sir Lancleot," she finally said after a deep breath. "Take the rest of the knights. I will stay back with Thomas and continue our march."

"Are you mad?" Lancelot snapped. "They- Highness, may I have a word with you away from other company?"

"You may not." Arturia tightened her grip on the reins. "There is no time to waste with useless ribbing when I have already given you an order."

"Very well. Then I will just speak my mind." He shot a dirty look towards Gilgamesh. "I do not trust the Babylonian king nor his council. You should not stay alone with but a boy to protect you."

Gilgamesh's expression hardly wavered, apart from one eyebrow and the tightening of his lower lip.

"If you are going to sit there and counter every proposal I have until the sun sets," said Arturia. "Then I suggest you take this quest upon yourself if you do not think any of the knights should leave my side. You have spent the most time with the queen on her rides. Perhaps you can pick up the trail more quickly on your own."

"You-" Lancelot sputtered, but quickly recomposed himself. "-very well my king. Send Merlin's owl back to Camelot. I will send word at the next sunset if I have found the queen."

"Godspeed, Lancelot," said Gawain. Lancelot nodded towards the knights and then snapped the reins.

* * *

_Fuyuki, Einzbern Castle Grounds_

Arturia shot through the forest, with not a drop of hesitation in her body. She was well aware of the evils she was bursting into, but her fury burned too hot for her to care. Fury for the children she had a sickening feeling were now far from salvation.

Her apprehensions became clear when she halted in a pool of blood that was littered with tiny scraps of clothing. Unidentifiable limbs and severed locks of hair were strewn about, mixing in with the mud that stuck to her greaves. It only took mere minutes for Caster to slaughter these children.

"You're finally here, Jeanne. I have waited quite some time," said Caster, a genuine smile on his lips. His pitch cassock was drenched with the blood of his hostages. Arturia resisted a shudder and tried to stifle the headache hearing that name caused.

"What of this tragic scene? Mortifying? Chilling? Could you even imagine the anguish those innocent lovely lambs underwent at the end of their short little lives? Jeanne, this is no such tragedy, not yet in fact. Compare it to the loss of you, to meet you again is-"

Without allowing another word from Caster, Arturia advanced, each step sloshing in a way that made her stomach curl. Caster was silenced, sensing the intent in her steps. He then unfolded his arms, revealing what he had been concealing behind his long sleeves. Arturia stopped.

A child, one child, one survivor still stood, sobbing as Caster held him to his hulking figure. Arturia thought of the possibility he could be using the child as a shield or a bargaining chip. It angered her even further.

"Oh, Jeanne, the raging fire in your eyes is so alluring." Caster smiled briefly. "Do you hate me so much? You should. I have betrayed the mercy and love of the Almighty. You would have never forgiven me for that. You were more devoted than any other."

"Let. The child. Go," Arturia said through her teeth. "This is a competition for the Holy Grail. And the Grail only selects Heroic Spirits most worthy of obtaining it. Using such tactics that would dishonor the Spirit will cause the Holy Grail to cast you aside."

"Now that you have returned to me, the Holy Grail is useless." Caster's bulging eyes cast down to the trembling boy that was spattered with the entrails of another. "My dear Jeanne, if you truly want to save this child..." He abruptly burst into laughter at the cries of the boy, and then released him from his grip. "Do not cry, my boy. Rejoice. The Almighty's devoted child came to save you. The omnipotent God has answered your prayers, and just like that, you have received salvation, unlike your friends."

The boy lifted his gaze to Arturia, realizing that she had come here for him. He began to wail loudly and broke into a sprint towards her. He wrapped himself around one of her legs and pressed his cheek against the cold steel. Arturia gently caressed the child's hair, trying to comfort him and devise an escape plan at the same time. She could not fight while there was someone to protect and transport to safety now. She resigned herself and knelt down to the child's height.

"Listen to me, child," she said. "It is very dangerous here. Run that way as fast as you can until you see the big castle. There are people inside who will help-"

In a split second, the boy's spine made a strange sound and he bent in a way that did not seem natural. He began to cry again, painfully, clutching Arturia's sleeves. She could only kneel there helplessly in shock as the child burst apart before her eyes, but what exploded from the corpse was neither blood nor entrails.

An abundance of slithery limbs, curling around each other, shooting every which way burst forth. They were thicker than human arms and covered in suckers like those of octopi. In a flash, they constricted around every inch of Arturia's armor and then all pulled in at once. In the pale moonlight, she could see bits and pieces of what used to be the small child sliding off the tentacles and hitting the ground with little to no sound.

It was then that Arturia started to see where more corpses had been disposed, for even more of these monstrous creatures burst forth, covering the ground with their form. In the middle of the slithering limbs there was a circular mouth with razor teeth as far down the throat as she could see.

"I believe," said Caster, a thick book materializing in his hands, "your golden friend, the other foolish Servant mentioned having vanquished me for not making proper preparations for his arrival and battle." As he spoke, blood appeared on his hands, dripping from the cover of the book; it did not take long for Arturia to realize the cover was made from human skin. "Ah I see you've taken interest to my book here. An ally left it for me long ago. It allows me to lead armies of monsters and demons, humble at my command. What would you wager? That all of Williame's armies could have stood up against my demonic militia? Do you think we may have been victorious then? Do you think your perfect body would have been saved from the flames that took you from me?"

The pain in the back of Arturia's head grew more prevalent. She tried to fight it off while struggling against the tightening constriction around her. She tried to loosen her grip, to drop whatever was left of the boy's corpse in her hands.

"Enough!" she cried. "I no longer wish to compete with you for the Grail!"

In a flash of anger that had been building up, the monsters were sent back by a shock wave that boomed loudly in Caster's ears, causing him to lurch forward. Arturia's battle cry filled the air as the monster around her disintegrated. Not a drop of blood nor sliver of flesh remained on her. The armor on her shone brightly, like a god of war, like a savior. Excalibur's winds coursed around her, preparing for the oncoming storm.


	9. A Hound on the Hunt

_Camelot_

Lancelot had ridden ahead of the marching army. He wished there had been something else that could have been done other than leaving all of the knights with Arturia. Lancelot hoped that the knights that had been left behind at Camelot were still alive and well, for he would surely need to organize a search party.

They had taken a few days to reach the coast where a ship had been waiting for the king's return. They had reacted a bit apprehensively to a single knight arriving for departure, but with the news of the queen, they complied. Each second passed agonizingly slow for Lancelot as he tried not to imagine what Guinevere might be going through. Rather, he imagined what he would do to the monsters that dared think they could get away alive with such treachery. He then found himself leaning on the last memory he had of the queen for comfort. It hardly helped.

_"Lancelot, there is not much use for me to come to Uruk with the king," said Guinevere. She lifted her pale face to the sun and took in its warmth. "No use at all, really. I must stay and take care of the kingdom while Arthur is away."_

_Lancelot leaned against a boulder that shared a seat on the bank and partially in the calm river that meandered by. The horses drank in the cool water, which was probably the only care they had at the moment. Lancelot envied them, the beasts of the earth._

_"I want you to come," he said quietly, uncrossing his arms. "More for your safety than anything."_

_Guinevere turned back to him with a tiny frown._

_"Now you know that would be a poor decision," she said. "For me to join you simply because one of the king's knights would enjoy my company."_

_Lancelot held his tongue. It would not have been right for him to share his feelings with her, so he stood patiently, eventually casting his gaze to the ground._

_After a bit of silence, the skirt of Guinevere's light dress came into his view, brushing against his greaves, making him raise eyes to meet hers. She was a tall woman, but she still looked up at him, a warm gaze that melted the wall he had put up in his heart to avoid trouble with the king_ and _queen. He inhaled deeply._

_"My queen?" he said, trying to hold himself up. "What is it you want?"_

_She reached forward, resting her long fingers on his chest, and kissed him, just like that. It was short, chaste, and, at the same time, full of desire. Lancelot stood there, still as a statue, even while his mind soared with a bounty of emotions: Joy, excitement, and then fear. He could not force anything upon the queen, he could not push her away, so he waited until she backed away to speak._

_"My queen," he said, his voice breaking. "I do not understand."_

_"Yes you do, Lancelot," she said bluntly. "I am a woman, my 'husband' is a woman. I cannot provide an heir, and I am not shown any affection from Arturia. I did not marry her expecting her to love me, but I am lonely. You have been by my side forever, and I've seen the way you look at me." Lancelot turned away, but Guinevere's soft touch brought his face back to her. "You once said I deserved better than the facade I live in now." Her eyes moved to his lips again. "So I ask you to give me better."_

_She cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his once more. Lancelot trembled, conflicted with his duty to the king and his desire for the queen. He had grown close to her over the time they had spent together, but he never thought it would lead to this._

_"Please," she begged against his lips. "Please, Lancelot."_

_The knight gently placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her away, peeling her from his embrace._

_"I cannot do this," he whispered. "I cannot betray the loyalty of my king and friend." He did his best not to look into her eyes. "I'm sorry."_

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

Insane laughter and the whistling of a swinging sword filled the forest.

"I have stained my love! I have sunken into love's bog!" Caster continued to chant mad mantras as summoned demons to overpower Arturia. "Oh my Holy Maiden! The gods fall in shame before you!"

Arturia continued to keep back the unholy monsters that whipped and lashed out at her with gaping jaws and razor teeth. The more she cut down, the more came forth to challenge her. This would mean she would have to fight twice as hard as before, and twice as fast. Drawing forth more mana, Arturia poured her will and power into Excalibur. The monsters burst into piles of entrails and blood before her. She kept count.

41...36...31...

But then she paused for the blink of an eye.

32...37...45...

They just kept coming, the endless assault. Arturia wondered how much mana Caster was being supplied with and how he was able to conjure so much damage with it. Her stomach lurched at the thought that the shredded corpses of the children was serving as a breeding ground for these demons. Even the bodies of the defeated gave birth to newer threats, resurrecting indefinitely. Arturia realized she would run Irisviel dry of mana if she did not pace herself, even if she felt full at the moment. She would not last if she fought at full strength, especially while caster seemed to have no limit to his mana. A curse lingered in her hand that Lancer had dealt to her; without the confounded injury, she could have eliminated this heathen days ago.

A small pause in the battle gave Arturia the chance to make an educated guess to Caster's power. The tome he held from which he recited the ritualistic chants. That was probably where he was drawing his power from. And she was right. She wished Irisviel had been her true Master so she could have identified that long ago.

"This brings back memories Jeanne," said Caster, not pausing at the flinch the name caused Arturia. "Even in a dire situation, overwhelmed by your enemies, you have never let fear overtake you, never succumbed to that fear, and you never let your gaze betray your inevitable victory. Surely you are the same. That dignified soul is undoubtedly the evidence of my holy maid, Jeanne d'Arc. It-"

"Full of nonsense as always," Saber muttered, but she concentrated on stilling the drumming of her frantic heart. Talking to this mad man would only make things worse.

Caster continued to praise and beg her. He mentioned the battle of Compiègne against France's risen conquerer, Williame. He spoke of an infernal betrayal and Jeanne's burning demise, the betrayal of her own God. All of these accounts continued to give Arturia a terrible headache. She felt as if she had heard all of this before; not witnessed them, not experienced them, only of heard them.

"Do you still remain God's puppet even after the path of humiliation upon which He set you?"

She wished to cut out his tongue. Her anger could no longer be subdued and she saw a gap in Caster's defenses, despite the wall of demonic monsters.

Her greaves dug into the bloodied mud and then she shot forward. One of the monsters lashed out for her and wrapped around her head, then her hand as she struggled to free herself, and then every limb was imprisoned once more. She feared that another mana burst to free herself would only weaken her faster. She was trapped, physically and mentally, with disturbing images whirling around in her head.

* * *

_Lothian, Scotland_

Morgana often enjoyed the small patch of trees she had raised up from her youth since she had been married off to King Loth. They varied in colors, shapes, and properties, most useful to one experienced in the magical arts.

It was simultaneously a comfort for her, a haven. It was here that she was not a queen, nor a wife. She was simply Morgana, a faye, one who knew every connection the ground had with the flora and how to utilize it and extract its power. She felt both calmed and empowered by her presence among her trees.

Even the eastern goddess seemed to enjoy the variety of color that surrounded her. Every time she moved past a branch or a trunk it would burst with blossoms, nuts, fruit or a burst of pollen. Even when the yellow powder snowed down onto her, she did not seem to mind. It was a brief moment when any mortal man would not have known she was a deity and not simply a beautiful woman enjoying the oddities of nature.

"I like this grove," she said, touching a small blossom that budded from a low hanging branch; it rippled with color before blossoming into a large red apple at the mere caress of Ishtar's fingertips. "I can see why you like it too."

"It's the only place I truly feel myself," said Morgana, smiling up at the couple of trees that had not been radically affected by the goddess' presence.

"Imagine a forest of these."

"I sometimes do."

Before Morgana could respond, there came a weak groan from under one of the trees a bit further from where the two women stood.

"I think she is waking up again," said Ishtar. "Shall I put her back under?"

"No," said Morgana. "If Arthur comes through the veil, seeing her conscious may give him more of an incentive to save his beloved queen."

Ishtar nodded and flicked her wrist towards the rousing woman. An entanglement of roots and vines encircled around the queen, securing her down as she woke. As Guinevere opened her eyes, she immediately went into a panic, squirming and struggling against what Ishtar had cast on her.

"As good of a plot this is," Morgana started slowly, ignoring the struggled cries of the young queen. "You know I don't want to merely kill my brother. That would be too merciful, too easy." She leaned against a blooming birch and crossed her arms. "The plan was to destroy Arthur's image as the most paragon of kings and to turn his people against him. The peasant revolts could then make an easier path for my husband's forces to take Camelot with fewer casualties."

"And the people of that land may be more inclined to open the gates for you if you were to send a savior to them," said Ishtar. "Are not your sons in Arthur's court?"

Morgana frowned.

"Yes," she said. "But all of my sons are very loyal to him. They would never betray him, not even for their mother land." Her voice dropped a little. "Not even for their mother."

Ishtar thrummed her slender against her shimmering skin. She knew they would be stumped at this point, human error. The type of behavior that got Enkidu killed in Gilgamesh's place. Her lips curled menacingly at the memory, of how she had been so close. And, now, much like Morgana's desire, killing the king would be too easy. She had to destroy him in every way. Misery was the best poison, misery and betrayal.

"You need a savior of both nations," said Ishtar. "A son from Arthur himself, one who can rescue the crumbling crown from his foolish father and unite Camelot under either himself of King Loth."

Morgana again frowned at her husband's name.

"Yes but a son of Arthur would have no connection to Lothian..." She trailed off and then met Ishtar's gaze, wide eyed. "Unless- you're not suggesting that-"

"I can make it so that you never have to even touch your brother," said Ishtar. "I can take what you need from him and more."

"But it would take years before the child is even ready to pick up a sword, much less overthrow a kingdom. Arthur will only grow stronger in that time."

Ishtar raised an eyebrow, a frown forming on her lips.

"Do you doubt me? Do you not see what I can do simply by walking in your grove?" She raised her arms and all the leaves in the forest grew and fell in a colorful dance, and then grew back again with flowers and fruit. "I am the being under which all form of fertility beckons. I am the force that gives life. I am the maker of war and love. I can build up a beautiful nation, turn it into one of corruption and evil, and then tear it down with a single siege. I have razed nations and brought down kings. But I can create life, powerful and magnificent life." Her golden eyes flared as a proud grin curled on her lips. "Do not doubt me, faye. I can raise your son up faster and stronger than any man that ever walked this earth and dared to defy me."

Morgana stood in awe, unsure of how to respond, other than perhaps apologizing for doubting her, but the moment passed in silence all the same.

"If there is to be a new age of unity," she said slowly. "I would much rather it be founded upon one with a better understanding of the land, one with the blood of the fairies in him, rather than my husband." Her frown slowly faded. "This could be a new age for Britannia. An age of restoration."

Ishtar lowered her arms and then glanced back at Guinevere who stared wide-eyed up at her, trembling in fear.

"Well, when Arthur arrives for his blushing bride, it will be easy enough for me to take his seed." She narrowed her eyes at the queen. "Have he and the queen begotten any children?"

"No," said Morgana. "They have no heir."

Ishtar was quiet for a while.

"Well, let us hope the king is not impotent."

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

The rush of strange images and sensations were about to drown Arturia as Caster's demons encircled their tendrils around her throat. She would not give in, no matter what form of devilish sorcery threatened to pull her under again.

But before she could make another move, a flash of gold and red released Arturia from her bonds. She gasped in precious air, but did not dare fall to her knees. She pushed back the images that had not left her head since her first encounter with Caster. She then cursed him in her mind for whatever plague he'd put in her head.

When her vision cleared, she saw her savior, a tall figure with a familiar face that could dazzle anyone from afar.

"How unsightly, Saber," said Lancer with a playful smirk. "If that's as awe-inspiring as your swordplay gets, then the title 'King of Knights' would cry for a new champion."

His smirk turned into a stunning smile that would have turned Saber into a puddle if she had not been blessed with magic resistance. Lancer's two spears appeared to burn with their own light, shining a duel-colored frame around Diarmiud ua Duibhne's presence.

"Lancer..." Arturia regained her voice. "Why..."

"Who are you!?" Caster cried incredulously, his eyes bulging from his head.

"What ever happened to that golden fellow who seemed so fond of you, Saber?" asked Lancer, blatantly ignoring Caster. "I imagine he would have been here before me to save you from this heretic devil."

"I- he is not here," said Arturia, briskly clearing her throat. "But that is irrelevant and pointless. That madman is." She pointed her blade towards Caster, who was going further into hysterics.

"Who gave you permission to disturb me!" Caster blathered, pointing one long and bony finger at Lancer.

"That's what I was going to say," said Lancer, raising one of his spears at Caster, his expression suddenly cold. "You're just an insolent fool. Saber's head is destined to be the prize that I hang beneath my spear. Your theft of my medal of victory is a despicable and dishonorable thing on the battlefield."

Arturia was not sure how to feel about that last statement. Then another thought occurred to her. Where was Lancer's master? Was he on the grounds? Had he infiltrated their defenses so easily?

"No no no no no!" Caster clawed at his own face, emitting noises that made the other Servants' stomachs curl. "My prayers! My Holy Grail! They were all for that woman to reawaken! She is mine! Every piece of her flesh, every drop of her blood, even her purest of souls is mine to take!"

Lancer simply let out a deep sighed and shrugged his shoulders, clearly unamused.

"You are dense. I am the one who wounded Saber. I and I alone have the right to fight her with her single-handed disadvantage."

Lancer then lifted the tips of his spears at his sides and took up his stance. He stood in front of Arturia and a sort of bloodlust flashed across his golden eyes.

"I am not meddling with your twisted love affair. If you are dead set on having Saber succumb to your-for lack of a better phrase, seduction- then be my guest. However- forget you not Diarmuid. I will not allow a single-handed warrior such as Saber to be defeated. If you do not retreat now, then my spears will become Saber's left hand."

Arturia could hardly believe that this was all for Lancer to ultimately finish their battle that had been previously interrupted. The night had been painted with the blood of innocents and filled with the toxic words of a heretic whose sanity had long since been nonexistent. Yet, for all of that, a new hope arose for Arturia.

"Lancer," she said quietly, "are you-"

"Do not confuse my intentions, Saber," he interrupted her. "My Master's commands for me are purely focussed on Caster's defeat. He never mentioned you. Therefore, I see it fit that we fight together for tonight. What say you?"

* * *

_Outskirts of Camelot_

The search had gone on for over a day since Lancelot arrived back at Camelot and gathered a search party. He had taken them to the areas that the queen most frequented on her rides. At some point though, he had deviated from the party and strayed upriver, thinking he may have found tracks in the mud of the riverbank. Instead, the trail took him to a grove he had never been to before.

In fact, he was positive that he had been all around these woods and hills, but he had never seen this grove in his time escorting the queen. In the light of dusk, the knight saw an odd pattern in the trees that had bloomed. Others bore fruit out of season, and still Lancelot had never in his life seen so many leaves on once branch.

"Well, this is an awkward situation," came a voice from behind the knight. It was a woman, a young woman. Lancelot turned and searched for her, and then found her half concealed by a dogwood in bloom. She had a familiar face; he felt as if he knew her.

"I was hoping for someone else to stumble through my veil," she said, stepping into full view. Lancelot furrowed his brow; he did not have time for this.

"My lady," he said as calmly as he could. "With all due respect, time is of the essence for me. I must not waste it any further here. But I must ask. Have you seen a woman pass through here? She would appear of noble birth and has possibly been taken against her will. Any information you have might be very-" Lancelot's breath caught in his throat as the air suddenly grew warm and the trees around him began to rapidly bloom. Petals fell like snow.

"What in God's name-" He was cut off by a sultry chuckle behind him.

"Good guess, but your Hebrew deity has nothing to do with me."


	10. Change of Plans

_Lothain, Scotland_

"You know, this might not be as awkward as you presume, Morgana." Ishtar drawled as she walked around Lancelot, trailing her gaze up and down his handsome figure; it was a pity that he was hidden under that armor. "We might be able to use him."

"Morgana?" said the knight. "Queen Morgana of Lothian? You jest, for surely Loth's queen would not be this far into King Arthur's land with little more than a female companion."

Morgana laughed, though her eyes betrayed her inner impatience.

"Sir knight," she said. "You think you are in Britannia? You really have strayed quite far."

Lancelot narrowed his eyes.

"Or you are simply mad."

"No, keep trying," said Ishtar, continuing to circle him. "There is a fine line between powerful and mad. You've leaped a bit too far this time."

"Oh stop teasing him," said Morgana. "He won't remember any of this anyway, I assure you of that. Our plan was for Arthur, not this simple knight, to come through the veil with the intention of finding his queen. I only had the components for one of those spells."

"So you do know what happened to my queen," Lancelot snapped, drawing his sword. He pointed it at Ishtar, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Relinquish what you know or I will cut it from your throat."

"Gracious," said Morgana. "Are you doing this to him, Ishtar?"

The goddess shrugged.

"I suspect his anger comes from his love for the queen." She reveled in the knight's reaction of pure shock. "So long as he is near me, that anger is simply another form of his passion for her."

"Wha-" Lancelot stepped back, but Ishtar smiled and stepped closer.

"Don't be shy, little man," she purred. "You look so tired. Why don't you lie down?"

Once she got close enough, she placed one slender finger on Lancelot's chest plate and gave a light push. As if he had taken a blow from a battle mace, he fell back and slammed violently into the grass. Before he could rise, Ishtar climbed on top of him and straddled his lap, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, I don't get to do this very often," she said excitedly, and leaned closer; her curls tumbled over her shoulders and brushed against the knight's sweaty brow. "Be a dear mortal and don't move."

Ishtar bored her gaze into his and then pressed her fingertips to his forehead. All at once, a strange array of images flooded from Lancelot's memories into Ishtar's. She saw the memories of King Arthur, all of them. She watched the two meet as squires, she saw their friendship bloom, yet something seemed off. Something was not right. She watched Arthur pull the sword from the stone and then she saw _it_. One memory that depicted Lancelot discovering his childhood friend bathing by the brook, with Excalibur next to him, displaying that it was indeed Arthur. And yet the glimpse of tiny breasts and the curves of a girl's womanhood told a different tale entirely. Ishtar suddenly realized she had stumbled across something deeper and darker than anything she and Morgana had ever anticipated.

She continued to watch the progression of Lancelot and the girl king's lives together as the closest of friends, even after Arthur's marriage to Guinevere...especially after that. Then, she watched Lancelot's time with the queen, the way he looked at her, talked to her, and even ultimately rejected her for his loyalty to-what did he call her? Arturia?

Then familiar images of Babylon flooded Ishtar's eyes and she burst into laughter.

"Oh Morgana," she cackled. "You won't believe all that I have just seen."

"Get off me!" Lancelot snarled. Ishtar touched his lips once and snickered as the knight realized he could no longer open his mouth. She then rose to her feet and went to the queen.

"We may have a problem," she said. Morgana frowned.

"What?"

Ishtar felt it unnecessary to be coy or beat around the bush at this point.

"Arthur is not a man."

It took a moment for Morgana to respond.

"As in- still a boy?"

"As in a woman."

"What?" Morgana's stared, slack-jawed and dumbfounded, but she hardly dared to question Ishtar's words. "How could this be? How could a woman, a girl- how could she rule as king?"

"He- she has succeeded splendidly at posing as a man for all these years," said Ishtar.

"Well now that plan of yours is ruined." Morgana bit her lips as she began to pace. "Of all the things that could stand in our way, I never would have guessed this. Not in a thousand lifetimes. Who would think that a girl would be the downfall of Britannia."

Ishtar pursed her lips; surely there was something that could be done.

"There-" Ishtar wondered if this would work. "-there is another way...but..." She trailed off.

"But what?" Morgana approached the goddess.

"I have an ability," she continued. "I am forbidden to exploit it, because it was deemed by the gods that humanity has not advanced enough to comprehend its power."

"What is it?"

"The process is so small that you don't have a name for it yet, and I can do it, but it will be difficult, for my abilities wax and wane with humanity, just as any god."

Morgana began to feel impatient at the goddess' apprehension.

"Well, what must you do?"

Ishtar frowned and then sighed.

"The way such things are," she said. "I cannot take what I need from Ar-Arturia to give you a child."

"Why?"

"Her virtue is still in tact, and I have no power over virgins."

As Morgana was about to suggest that Ishtar seduce Arthur, or Arturia rather, the goddess began to chuckle and then burst into another fit of laughter that could bring an army to its knees.

"What do you find so funny?" Morgana asked, taken aback by her outburst. Ishtar continued to laugh, and as she did, the trees around her began to bloom and bear fruit at an alarming speed. Her power was incredible.

"I love humans," she giggled. "Because even if I cannot touch virgins, I know someone else who can, desires to, and probably will make a path for me in due time."

"Who? One of the knights?" Morgana glanced over Ishtar's shoulder at Lancelot who still lay pinned helplessly in the grass.

"Even better." The fruits and nuts from the trees suddenly grew old and too ripe, and then rained to the ground around the two women, and a smile curled on Ishtar's lips. "Gilgamesh."

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

"To be clear, Lancer, my left hand alone would have defeated a hundred of these foul nuisances," said Arturia.

"Then be left-handed today."

"I think you are missing my point here."

As entertaining as their banter was, the two Servants took up their weapons and lunged forward at the gathering demons. The tome in Caster's hand pulsed, as did the veins that ran under the Servant's skin. The alien monsters continued to venture forth, but were then slaughtered mercilessly, creating mountains upon mountains of corpses. As more fell, a heavier and heavier rancid stench filled the air. Hundreds upon hundreds of severed tentacles and gaping mouths of putrid, acidic saliva spread across the ground. Arturia judged that the air would have killed a normal human, and the acidic liquid would have burned right through their skin as well.

"We're getting nowhere," said Lancer, although he showed no signs of fatigue.

"It's his befouled spell book," said Arturia. "That is his Noble Phantasm; so long as it exists, our odds will not waver."

"But in order to remove the tome from his cowardly hands, we will have to break through the wall of minions."

The amount of mana Caster seemed to spend seemed inexhaustible. Despite his lack of strength, he would surely win if he allowed Lancer and Arturia to exhaust their supply of mana. Arturia suddenly realized she still had plenty of to spare. It felt- different, odd. She had not felt a connection with Irisviel for sometime now, yet she felt at full strength.

"At such a desperate time, would you humor a gamble, Lancer?" she asked, glancing his way.

"Cavorting with Caster's minions has accomplished naught, so yes, I accept your offer, Saber."

At Lancer's consent, Arturia readied her greatest skill, allowing the power needed to pool in her, to collect.

"I will open a path," she said as she collected her mana. "This will be the only chance. Can you run with the wind, Knight of Fianna?"

"Hmm...so that is your idea?" Lancer shot her a dazzling grin. "Readily accomplished."

"Why are you mumbling so quietly?" Caster cried from afar. "Your dying prayers perhaps?" He began to giggle hysterically. "Feel the terror, the despair! There is only so much time for you to fight back, only so much strength! Humiliating is it not?" He smiled, wide and sinister. "For heroes, there is no humiliation greater than this..."

Arturia remained with her emotions locked away, unaffected by Caster's joyful scorn. She had taught herself long ago to keep her feelings in check, to keep them simmering, never boiling over, for it was then that her true power was able to flow through. She gripped the sword in one hand, focusing only on the desperately needed victory.

"That beautiful face," Caster cooed. "Twist in agony for me, Jeanne!"

The monsters roared a horrible guttural sound from what must have been their throats. Arturia drew in a deep breath, despite the toxic air and commanded loudly, "Strike Air!" and her sword shook under the whirling air and shone a brilliant silver hue. The winds roared like a dragon and then rushed forward, striking the demonic beasts hard and fast. It all went so fast, Lancer nearly lost his window watching pieces of the monsters fall like rain down around them. There was a perfect gap between he and Caster, whose robes fluttered at the strong gust that rushed passed him.

"What-what!" he blathered in shock, suddenly vulnerable. Lancer sprang into the gap, caught up in a vortex. The cool gusts blew about, hastening his pace as he plunged forward with a cry of battle. He passed, untouched by the walls of blood and flesh, and then cut seamlessly through the extra monsters that had just recently spawned to protect their master. He fended them off with his shorter weapon while he extended his longer spear at Caster growling, "Gouge, Gae Dearg!" and then stabbed through the cover of Caster's tome. Suddenly, all of the creatures that had spawned turned back into blood and flesh, and then scattered upon the ground. They were no longer powered by Prelati's Spellbook.

"You bastard!" Caster cried in agony. "You evil evil fiend!"

He began to foam at the mouth in rage and Lancer grinned.

"Well would you look at that? Despite her left hand in its condition, Saber could easily finish this with her little finger."

Arturia, no longer in any mood for banter, raised her sword at the fiend who was responsible for the screams and tears of the slaughtered children that no longer had bodies to be buried. She drew in a deep breath once more, and the simmering anger suddenly began to boil.

"Prepare yourself, heretic."

* * *

_Northern Border of France_

Arturia sat in her tent, reviewing the information all the scouts had brought back from their journey, spreading the reports out on the table before her. They were various accounts on Williame's army and where he had posted his men, how many ships left the ports daily, and little news on Britannia's current welfare. Arturia wearily set down a stolen record on the list of supplies that had been pillaged from one of Britannia's sea side fishing villages. She rubbed her fingers against her temples and leaned just a little bit away from the lantern that lit her tent. Her fingers ached to shoot a bow or swing a sword to relieve the stress she was under, but there was little to be done on the road. Back in Camelot, she could have taken a quiver of arrows to the range where squires trained and shoot her morning away. It was a pleasant escape and relief for her, but lately it did little good to relax her.

On top of the impending invasion of her kingdom, the loss of her queen, although not one of significant personal tragedy, was still an affair that disturbed everyone that heard. People loved Guinevere for her beauty and grace. The common folk often benefited from her various collections for the poor and in turn, were happier to pay their taxes to a king with such a generous and caring queen.

Arturia took a moment to lay her head down, hoping it would ward the ache from behind her eyes. It did very little.

"Your Majesty," said a guard posted outside her tent. "The Babylonian King requests your council."

She could hear Gilgamesh within earshot snapping, "I was not requesting, I was demanding."

Arturia took a deep breath to recompose herself and allowed him to enter, and then to ensure Gilgamesh didn't accidentally let her secret slip, dismissed her guards from their posts to go get some supper.

"You only have two men posted to the entrance of your tent?" said Gilgamesh as he looked about her quarters. "A very humble precaution."

Arturia tried to ignore his usual statements as she organized the reports into a pile, but then Gilgamesh continued to say something that she did not expect from him.

"Your people must love you enough that you wouldn't think to need much security."

Arturia glanced up from the table to see the king nonchalantly pacing about the tent as if he had not said something completely uncharacteristic of him. He did, however, swipe an orange from the bowl of fruit that sat on a table next to Arturia's bed.

"I suppose that is one way to look at it," she said, fighting the urge to smile at the genuine flattery; she cleared her throat and rose from the chair. "Did you have a specific reason that you wanted to speak with me?"

Gilgamesh started to peel the orange, causing a strong scent of citrus to sneak into the air. It was pleasant to smell.

"As much as I detest talk of war and strategy, eventually I must face reality and educate myself with the affairs of my army and what is being done with them." He approached the table and popped an orange slice into his mouth before offering one to Arturia who silently declined it.

"Do you wish to know what my scouts have retrieved?" she offered, gesturing to the pieces of parchment on the table. "Otherwise, I have little I need to discuss with you."

"It would certainly not do any harm."

Arturia spread out the reports again and started to explain where they were in relation to Williame's forces and how the defense of Britannia was faring.

"Goodness," said Gilgamesh while he read down the stolen record of the fishing village. "I see why you came for my aid now."

"It does not take long to realize it," said Arturia, sighing. "Williame is determined to conquer my kingdom, and no doubt the rest of the land as well, yet King Loth does little to aid our defenses."

"Loth?"

"The ruler of the lands northern to Britannia. King of the Scots."

Gilgamesh leaned over to look at the map of Britannia that lay under the reports on the table. His frame grew ever closer to Arturia and she lost her train of thought for a moment.

"He-uh-he seems awfully content to let Williame burn through my kingdom."

"Any particular reason why?"

Arturia drew in a deep breath.

"Bad blood between Loth's queen and my father, a story for another time." Arturia covered Scotland on the map with another report. "He hardly came to my aid when I fought off the Saxons or the Angles, and he certainly did nothing to stop those of his land from barbarically attempting to raid my northern lands...damned Picts."

Gilgamesh had not kept much track with the history of this small western country, but as Arturia spoke, he started to add up the logical years and battles that must have taken place during her reign and he looked at her quizzically.

"Arturia-" he paused, wondering if he should ask again. "How old were you when you took the throne?"

The tiny king looked up at him, surprised at his curiosity. She wondered if this was a set up for another one of his arrogant antics or lust drawn lifestyle. It bothered her.

"Fifteen."

Gilgamesh went slack jawed. He was not unfamiliar with the idea of young kings, in fact, he had heard of younger, but the added burden of Arturia having been a woman in disguise her whole life gave him the growing thought that she might be slightly mad to have taken this all on her shoulders at such a young age.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you even choose this path? It's so much for one person, let alone one girl to take it all...why take on that burden?"

His words hit her hard and she did not reply right away. It was a question she had not expected, at least not so abruptly.

"Gilgamesh- if you are finished with your inquiries of the war, I would suggest that you retire."

"I was simply-"

"Goodnight!" Arturia said softly, yet abruptly. She was tired, and had had enough of the arrogant king's company for one night. Gilgamesh seemed to recognize her fatigue and resigned himself.

"Goodnight, Arturia," he said, keeping his voice down before exiting the tent.

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

Arturia aimed her sword true towards where Caster's heart would be, if he had one, but then considered that notion and opted for his throat instead. Surely such a heathen monster could not have a heart worth running through with a blade as holy as Excalibur.

But just as she was welling up a new burst of mana to finish him off, Lancer flinched violently and turned his attention to the castle.

"What-?!"

The second Lancer had broke his focus from finishing off his opponent, Caster had already regenerated the spell book in his hands. Arturia's anger boiled over.

"Your struggle is for naught!" she exclaimed, and then rushed forward to strike down her enemy before he could complete his newest incantation. But Caster was not foolish enough to simply chant in the midst of a blade. Instead of a spell, he simply released a wave of mana that caused the blood connected beneath him in pools to surge up and block Arturia's vision before she could strike. No monsters were summoned, but the blood instantly boiled and evaporated into a crimson fog, blinding anyone trying to attack.

Arturia swung her sword lightly and the vortex that covered the blade fanned out and cleared the fog. Caster was nowhere to be seen.

"Mongrel," Arturia spat. "What unbelievable cowardice." She looked to Lancer, who was still otherwise occupied with something towards the castle.

"Lancer, what's wrong?" she asked only partly out of concern, but mainly for the reason that he could have easily pursued Caster and finished him off; however, it was obvious something had happened that disturbed him.

"My lord is in trouble," he finally said, his face grim. "I believe he tried to attack your fortress."

Arturia made a face, but then let out a breath.

"It must be my Master's doing," she sighed. "Hurry, go save your lord."

At first, Lancer seemed taken aback by Arturia's urging, but he then bowed his head in thanks and turned.

"I am in your debt, King of Knights."

Arturia grinned lightly.

"Worry not. We still have yet to complete our knight's duel. We will honor that to the end."

Lancer nodded, and then disappeared, his spirit swiftly making its way to the castle.

Just as Arturia was about to head there as well, there was a sudden lurch in her gut. Instinctively, she knew Irisviel was in grave danger. It took her mere seconds to reach the battleground, and there, limply lain in a puddle of her own blood, was Irisviel. Arturia felt the color rush from her own face as she stumbled to her side.

"Irisviel!" she cried in a panic. "Hang in there, Irisviel!"

"S-Saber?"

 _Oh thank God she's still alive_ , Arturia thought, letting out the breath she had been holding. But the woman's ruby eyes were starting to close.

"No! Stay awake! I'll call Kiritsugu right away." Arturia grew desperate. "Hang on until then!"

"Kirei..." Irisviel's voice was barely above a weak moan. "Where is he?"

"He escaped," Arturia answered with regret. "Dammit, if I had just been here earlier."

"Miss Maiya?"

"She is wounded, but not gravely. You are by far worse. Where you are bleeding, you-" Arturia stopped short as Irisviel moved her arms away from her abdomen, revealing the torn cloth from where Kirei's blades had shorn through, and yet while the skin underneath was stained red, it was smooth as a pearl.

"I am sorry if I scared you," Irisviel whispered, rising with Arturia's arm for support. What little color that had drained from her face had returned. She hardly looked injured at all now apart from her clothes being stained beyond repair.

"Irisviel, how-what-"

"My body is not quite human, remember? Don't worry."

"Ah..."

Arturia still could not believe her eyes. She took a moment to examine Maiya more closely. She was not dying, but she had suffered some pretty serious wounds. This seemed like it had just been a sample, a taste of Kirei Kotomine's power and malice.


	11. The Truth is in the WIne

_Fuyuki, Japan_

Gilgamesh purposely stayed in physical form in order to more slowly make his way back to the Tohsaka Mansion. He did not look forward to another lecture from the magus mortal who called himself his Master Besides, it was well into the night and anyone who could possibly catch him in his magnificent golden form should consider themselves lucky.

He cracked his neck and suddenly felt the air grow electric with thunder and lightning. He braced himself for the one Servant who would be boisterous enough to do such a thing.

"Ahah!" cried Iskander, guiding his chariot down to the dimly lit streets. "Greetings opponent!"

Gilgamesh's finger twitched at the Gates of Babylon, but he couldn't help but notice the large, red wooden barrel that replaced the sword Iskander typically held. Gilgamesh would have smirked, having smelled the contents from far away, if it had been any other Servant before him.

"Do you plan to bludgeon me to death with a wine casket, mongrel?" he said flatly. "Is that your true Noble Phantasm?"

Iskander let out a booming laugh.

"I see you _are_ capable of humor in this life!" he guffawed. "That is a good thing. Perhaps you can share that golden wit of yours over a drink with me and Saber!"

Gilgamesh made a face at Iskander, tightening his arms across his chest.

"What sort of business do you have with my treasure that does not involve you attempting to conquer her kingdom or run her through with a sword?"

"A simple solemn drink between kings!" Iskander replied without missing a beat. Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

"You know you can't poison a Heroic Spirit, correct?" he said. Iskander lifted his head just a bit as he looked down on Gilgamesh from his perch.

"Of course I know that," he said, his voice dropping. "And even if it were so, I would not _stoop so low_ as to poison a guest to my own gathering. That's just despicable."

Gilgamesh tasted the venom on his words.

"And you are inviting _me_ along?" he asked. "Why would you do that?"

"Despite the constant banter between Servants, you _are_ , in fact, a king. This will be a gathering for kings! You, me, and your little lioness."

Gilgamesh's boot dug into the asphalt, causing the surface to crack beneath his strength.

"You will _not_ refer to her as I do, do you hear me, dog?" he itched for Babylon. "And you are simply going to your death by entering Saber's presence, now of all times."

Iskander casually shrugged and went to grab the reins on his chariot.

"I do not fear a little girl, nor do I fear you," he said. "So I am going on the account of peace, and then of merrymaking."

Lightning shook the ground as he snapped the reins and disappeared towards the direction of the Einzbern Castle. Gilgamesh scoffed and turned back to his original destination, but then stopped. He looked to the ground, and then behind him, and then back towards the direction of the Tohsaka Mansion.

"Damn him!" he groaned, and then slowly vanished into a mist of gold.

* * *

_Northern Border of France_

Arturia was not going to wait any longer for word about the queen, as much as she feared for her safety, the kingdom was much more important. this was apparent to Gilgamesh when she gathered her knights, and himself with his generals to her tent to discuss the attack on Williame's forces.

"The problem we have faced so far is that Williame has been able to keep his army well supplied and well fed because of their mother land," said Arturia, gesturing to the various fortresses and ports on the map. "If we eliminate their sources, choke them out from the inside, we can weaken their roots and take the whole operation down."

"This is mostly concerning the land troops, correct?" asked one of Gilgamesh's generals, Ishkibal. Arturia nodded.

"I will need our nautical militia to come in from the Strait of Dover and blindside Williame's navy. He may have an advantage in skill, but we have more men and more resilience." She looked briefly to Gilgamesh. "From what I have observed when your men trained, Babylonian warriors are very hard bitten and can take many hits without going down. Williame will have the disadvantage of still believing he has the upper hand."

"And of us, my king?" asked Sir Bedivere. Arturia traced her finger back to Camelot.

"We have not heard word of Lancelot or any of the search parties," she said. "So I need you to ride and sail hard to ready the troops from the other side, as well as our ships. We will drive our enemy back into the sea but keep him from his own land. They will have nowhere to go but to the bottom of the English Channel."

The men who gathered around the war table watched, otherwise silently as their king or ally traced the paths of each military sect and outlined their paths and goals.

"Gilgamesh," said Arturia, giving him her direct attention. "Where do you feel your presence could be used the most for the morale among your troops?"

Gilgamesh looked as if he had not been expecting this particular question. But despite his attitude in the past few days, he knew this was an important decision for both British and Babylonian troops who were about to give their lives. He leaned forward, examining the map.

"Where will you be leading from?" he asked Arturia.

"I will need to stay with my knights and return to Britannia," she replied. "Ultimately, I have decided to lead my ships against Williame's."

"Then it would seem our priority is winning at sea, correct?" he asked, tracing along the English channel. "The troops need to be at their best, and fighting at sea will be difficult, even for those who were trained for it." He straightened himself and adjusted the gold bracelet at his wrist. "If your knights are capable of leading your people to drive the French into the sea, we can lead different sides of the assault to finish them off for good. I will go through the Strait to cut them off."

When he looked at Arturia, she seemed impressed, but moment was brief, for there were things to be done, and all the men needed their rest. Arturia decided to leave after the troops set to disrupt Williame's strongholds had been put into place. She estimated this might take a fortnight or so to obtain control over all the fortresses.

"Hopefully by then, I will also have received news of my queen," Arturia said quietly. "But that is for me to worry about. You all know your places in this plot, and I trust you all to perform to your utmost strength." She pushed herself from the table. "Unless anyone has any questions, you are all dismissed."

"I do have one," said Gilgamesh. "But I would rather discuss it privately."

Arturia drew in a breath, but ultimately conceded, motioning for the rest of the company out of her tent.

"What is your concern?" she asked, making a surprisingly direct line for the pitcher of wine beside her bed. "If you could keep the antagonizing to a minimum, I would be eternally grateful for that."

Gilgamesh found himself taken aback by her curt remark.

"Artu-" He stopped short and cleared his throat; it would be bad to take a chance. "Arthur, we are on the brink of a very important series of war missions. As carefree as I appear most of the time, you forget that I am able to be as such because I know how to protect my kingdom and keep war off of my domain. I rule the most fortified and thriving kingdom in the known world." He was starting to grow weary of her surprised faces. "At this point, you obviously still hold some sort of contempt for me and I am simply trying to clear the air before we go into battle together."

Arturia poured her wine as he spoke and took rather large gulps from the ornate wooden cup, not bothering to look at him. When he was finished, she scoffed a little, refilled her cup, and glanced at him askance.

"Well," she said with a caustic tone. "I am, indeed, grateful that you have taken time to still your venomous tongue, Gilgamesh." She paused to take a drink. "However, everything I have said and done towards you has simply been because you provoked me firsthand."

"I have not," said Gilgamesh. "Not of late, and you have still regarded me coldly and I have done nothing to deserve your anger."

"Oh, you think this is about recent affairs," she retorted, waving the cup about a little. "My apologies, I should have specified that the offense of your _hand between my legs_ has left a lingering- disdain for you."

Gilgamesh stared hard for a moment, his mouth open in surprise, but he quickly recomposed himself and stood tall.

"There was deception in my court," he said calmly. "I was compelled to expose it."

Arturia slammed down her cup. A splash of wine spilled onto her hand.

"You had no right!"

"I had every right in my own home, _little king_. You could have concealed a weapon in that womanhood of yours."

The face Arturia made would have made Gilgamesh laughed if he hadn't just been insulted. Instead of responding, Arturia huffed out a breath of frustration and wiped her hand dry before pouring herself another cup, and then pouring a second into the cup next to hers. Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow, just about to question her drinking habits before she held the second up to him.

"Then let us be civil if that is what you want," she said lowly, her expression clearly indicating she was still unhappy about her assault. Gilgamesh went over and was about to take the cup from her hand, but she moved it out of his reach and steeled her gaze towards him.

"But let me make one thing abundantly clear to you," she said. "You will never _ever_ touch me again without my permission. If you desire the company of a woman, there are brothels in Britannia and I'm sure France has an abundance in them."

It surprised him at first, but then he visibly relaxed and let out a small laugh.

"I suppose it's true then," he said, and when she cocked her head in confusion, he continued, "Some things are truly beautiful for the sole reason that they cannot be obtained." Before Arturia had time to respond, Gilgamesh took the cup from her hand and said. "You have my word, I will never touch you again _without your permission_."

The wine was sweet, like honey. He imagined this was a common brew around these parts; it was good, which surprised him.

"So, how did you even know?" Her voice was quiet.

"Hmm?" He looked to her to meet her intense gaze.

"How did you even suspect that I was not a man?"

Gilgamesh grinned proudly. He had been waiting for her to ask that question.

"It was when you knelt before me and bowed your head," he said, before taking another sip of the honey-wine. "I suppose you don't bow to others often given your place as king?"

"But- still how-"

"It was the back of your neck," he said. "Usually your armor or your robes tend to cover it, but when you dropped your head to me, it just struck me. It bothered me so much that I felt compelled to discover the truth. You would do well to reinforce it more perhaps if you plan on kneeling to anyone again."

He watched Arturia reach around to feel the nape of her neck, rubbing it for a bit. She pursed her lips in frustration and glared at him.

"How could you possibly know from something as trivial as that?"

He could not help but chuckle.

"I've been behind my fair share of lovely maidens," he said, reveling in the red that surfaced to Arturia's cheeks. "And, with their hair in my hands, it leaves little else to look at during those heated moments. There is just a certain curve to a woman's neck and back that is very distinctive. That is also part of the reason I wanted to see you in Babylonian garb." He met her gaze. "You have such a lovely back."

His gaze left a lingering heat on Arturia's face. She wondered how her body could be lovely with her defined arms and ridged back, cut and toned from labor and battle. She had the body of one who toiled and worked in the fields, yet the pale skin of the nobles who reigned from their castles. She was a conundrum of stereotypes and enigmas, but never had she thought herself lovely.

She shook the thoughts from her head and finally remembered to breathe, and then practically buried her face in the next drink of wine.

"Do you often drink this much?" said Gilgamesh, changing the subject. She shrugged.

"Not as often as you would think, but not as rarely as you would assume." She swirled the cup in her hand. "Britannia has held its fair share of feasts and festivals, and there are very few who can surpass my strength in the drink."

Gilgamesh blinked a few times.

"You're lying."

"I am not. The only men I know who can out drink me are Sir Lancelot and Merlin, although I suspect there is a bit of mage craft at work with that latter rival."

Gilgamesh chuckled and conceded his suspicions with a tip of his cup.

"I may have to challenge you someday, Arturia. And then, we will use only the finest wine from my treasury."

He offered his cup to her, and after a long pause, she tapped it with hers with an unusually sly grin.

"Then I pray in advance for your swift recovery."

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

Arturia had partially expected another assault on the already ruined castle from another Servant.

What she had not expected was that it would be Rider in some strange T-shirt and jeans, with a sloshing barrel of wine slung over his shoulder and a proud smile on his face.

No...no, she did expect the smile.

Before she knew it, the two of them were sitting on the ground of the parterre in the castle's center courtyard, away from the generally ruined portions of the castle. Both Irisviel and Rider's master, the young man named Waver sat next to each other, off a ways from the two Servants. Somehow, a temporary truce had been enacted. Arturia was still confused as to how this had all happened so quickly. If Kiritsugu had been here, he would probably have ordered her to run Rider through with a splintered piece of wood from the barrel he carried. But instead, the night was peaceful, apart from Rider shattering the lid of the casket with his bare fist. The strong smell of the rice wine hovered into the air and met Arturia's nostrils with a welcoming scent. It had been so long since she had had a well brewed drink.

"Although of odd shape, this is apparently the goblet unique to this country," said Rider, using a small bamboo ladle, that resembled more of a spoon in his large hands, to dip wine from the cask; he drained the wine in one gulp before speaking, "I have heard that only those who are worthy are able to obtain the Holy Grail."

Arturia suddenly realized this was not going to be a merry time as she had expected from the boisterous Servant.

Even without having received an answer, Rider handed the ladle to Arturia, who scooped up her own fill of wine. She wondered if Rider would ultimately test her weight against the drink and could not help but swell with pride in her own mind.

"Are you going to compete to see who is the better drinker Rider?"

"Exactly!" said Rider. "This will be a true competition in the name of kingship! But this is not the 'War of the Holy Grail', no that won't do. This will determine who should be the King of the Grail! Don't you think a wine goblet is a much more appropriate way to determine this?"

Rider then let out a loud laugh, suddenly himself again. Then he stopped abruptly and then lowered to a chuckle.

"And, speaking of kings," he said, eying Arturia wryly, "here is another who calls himself king."

_"That's quite enough nonsense, cur."_

A blinding gold light shone into view. Arturia heard his golden armor shifting before she saw him walking out of the light. Her stomach suddenly knotted and she was abruptly unsure if she could hold her drink down now.

"Gilgamesh...why are you here?" she demanded angrily.

"I invited him when I saw him on the streets," said Rider in a passive tone. "But you _are_ late, Goldy. Unlike me, he did walk here, so it is not entirely his fault."

Gilgamesh glared at him, his ruby eyes burning.

"Leave it to you to choose an awful place for such an occasion as this," he said, approaching the two other kings. "Although, this _is_ about as much taste as you will ever have, so it's not _entirely_ your fault."

"Now, come, have a drink before you pass judgement," said Rider, offering up the ladle. He passed it to Gilgamesh, who took it, contrary to what Arturia expected. He glanced at her, and kept her gaze as he downed the wine. Her eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed, and then looked away.

"This is a cheap imitation of wine, mongrel," said Gilgamesh. "How could such a drink be allowed to be served among kings and heroes?"

Rider pouted.

"It was the finest I could find in the local market."

"You think such because you know nothing about wine." Gilgamesh outstretched his hand. "Behold, this is what the king's wine should be."

A couple of golden ripples of light appeared in the air, and Arturia immediately jumped to attention, expecting a blade to come forth. But instead, a gold pitcher slowly descended into the king's hand, and into the other hand, fell three small goblets, encrusted with rows of sparkling gems.

"Oh! Many thanks!" Rider happily took the pitcher from Gilgamesh and poured the wine into all of the cups. As he did, Arturia found Gilgamesh's gaze still not leaving hers. She shifted herself, sitting back on her knees, and swallowed uncomfortably. She took her own cup, still cautious of its origins. Before she could show hesitance, Rider downed his share and his eyes went wide.

"This is delicious!"

By now, Arturia was actually curious, and took a slow drink. As the wine flowed down her throat, she felt a sudden familiarity through the fragrance and flavor. It was fiery and clear, yet mellow and invigorating. It was as if the taste itself was a memory of long ago. Despite the exotic taste that gave her a sense of calm, it did not stop a short flash of images and voices through her mind.

_"I may have to challenge you someday, Arturia. And then, we will use only the finest wine form my treasury."_

_Crimson eyes that flashed with humor. Strong hands that held a humble yet thoughtfully crafted wooden cup. The bite of spring's evening chill that trickled through opening of a tent, and the unfamiliar grin she felt on her own lips._

_"Then I pray in advance for your swift recovery."_

"Be it wines or swords, only the best are stored in my treasury," the same smooth and prideful voice pulled Arturia quickly from her daze as gently as she had been dragged under. "It seems my lioness has already succumb to the drink."

It took a brief second for Arturia's head to clear; her anger cut through the warm haze like a knife.

"Cease your jokes, Gilgamesh!" she snapped. "Your proud boasting is hardly better than Caster's inane babble!"

Gilgamesh showed visible shock and offense to her remark.

"You _could_ go for a minute or two before finding some asinine reason to insult me or attack me," he sneered. "I grow tiresome of your stubbornness."

"Enough, you two are exhausting," said Rider, and then he signaled for Arturia to sit; she did not remember jumping to her feet.

She slowly resumed her seat adjacent from Gilgamesh, and watched him intently. He calmly sipped his wine, occasionally looking her way.

"I suppose it is time to see who is the stronger drinker after all, little king," he said, with a smile that did not match the solemness in his eyes. "Do you still pray for me, love?"


	12. On the Brink of Contact

_Einzbern Castle_

"Archer, this greatest of wines you have summoned deserves to be vesseled only in the most prized of all goblets," said Iskander with a smile, before taking another generous gulp for himself. "However, the Holy Grail was not designed for wine. Tell me Archer, try to convince us that you and no one else are worthy of possessing the Grail."

Gilgamesh chuckled into his cup.

"You presume that we are even equal enough to compete for the Holy Grail. I am afraid that is just not possible."

"Hm?" Rider raised an eyebrow and Arturia sighed.

"It was promised to me a long time ago, long before the magi took interest in it."

Arturia's grip tightened around her goblet. If there was anything that remained of her shredded memories, it was the agreement she had made with Gilgamesh in exchange for his assistance in the war against Williame the Conqueror. She remembered the time they spent in his private gardens discussing the conditions of their agreement, and his journey with them towards Britannia, but after the initial planning of overthrowing Williame, it all started to blur into nonlinear images that made little sense, even if she could tell what they were. Some were more perplexing than others.

"It should already be in my possession to begin with," Gilgamesh continued. "All treasures in the world originate from my collection, so having to retrieve it from where it was at the time was an unfortunate circumstance at least."

"The Holy Grail you speak of was a relic that originated when it collected the blood of Jesus Christ upon his crucifixion," said Arturia. "No one is even certain that is the same Christian relic that grants eternal youth. The one we fight for grants wishes."

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes at her and then shrugged.

"Either way, they both belong to me."

"So you're saying you once had the Holy Grail?" Rider interjected. "So you could identify it upon sight."

"No, it is not something you could understand." Gilgamesh took another drink. "My wealth exceeds even my own knowledge, but as long as it is considered a treasure of man, it obviously belongs to me."

Arturia's jaw dropped.

"You speak as madly as Caster with your treasury and entitlement!" she spat. "The Holy Grail that we bargained-" She stopped short and glanced at Rider who raised his eyebrow; she sighed, no sense in hiding it now. "The Grail we bargained over was the Christian relic, and had no Babylonian origin whatsoever."

"Irrelevant," said Gilgamesh nonchalantly. "That Grail, my love, is a part of a different story. I am merely emphasizing that it would be senseless for Rider to try and rob me of the Grail he currently fights a losing battle for."

"Oi," said Rider. "You two may have had the unfortunate circumstance of being summoned in the same war, but that still leaves little room for lovers quarrel. If you two intend to battle out your relationship-oh sit down Saber- do it some other time. For now, let us drink."

Arturia clenched and unclenched her fist, staring down Gilgamesh. He was equally as stubborn in his gaze, but was eventually the one to break away, taking a long swig of his wine and quickly pouring another cup full.

"What say you and I have that little contest we promised so long ago?" he said, raising his cup to her. "Do you still have the same vigor that I fell for?"

Arturia's eye twitched lightly as she felt the need to run him through, yet with the newest memories of her civil evening of drink and discussion, she started to wonder how much of her hatred was deserved.

She sat down without another word and gulped another cup full.

"Gracious," said Rider, refilling her cup. "I was not aware the extent of your history each other ran as deep as the scars it leaves for me to see." He paused. "Perhaps there was much more than you had let on, King of Heroes."

* * *

_Outskirts of Camelot_

_._

_Lancelot found himself walking up the river for quite a while, his search party right behind him, until they came upon a trail of foot and hoof prints that led them to a cave. Inside, Lancelot discovered a group of men dressed in a fashion he had not seen in three years. There, the queen lay next to the fire, asleep, bound and beaten._

_The next thing Lancelot realized was that the Angles were slaughtered and the queen was back in the care of a physician in Camelot._

The knight was informed that he had sustained a rather strange blow to the head during the battle. It mattered little to him as long as Guinevere was in good health.

"She is awake actually," said Sir Agravain; he had been the first one to greet Lancelot upon his return. "She has been asking for you ever since she regained consciousness." He glanced at Lancelot with a raised eyebrow. "What could the reason be that she calls for a simple knight and not her own husband and king?"

Lancelot narrowed his eyes.

"For all she knows, King Arthur is still not even in Britannia, let alone Camelot. And she assumes correctly," he said. "He wis probably on his way here now."

Sir Agravain shrugged, and the chair he sat in squeaked as he rose.

"You may be right," he said with a sneer. "Either way, she wants to see her favorite knight."

Before Lancelot had time to retaliate, Agravain had slipped out the door and was gone. He cursed under his breath and then rose from his bed, clenching his forehead while he did. His head burned, as if someone had taken a hot coal and burned something into his mind that did not belong.

It took him very little time, despite his searing headache, to get to the queen's chambers. When he requested the audience, the physician answered the door and allowed him in. Guinevere lay on the bed of white sheets, some areas of which had been dirtied by her injuries. Lancelot dropped to one knee immediately.

"My queen," he breathed in relief. "I am so glad to see you safe again. I am so sorry I could not find you sooner."

She gave a weak smile and beckoned him forward.

"She sustained quite a few bruises," said the physician. "But nothing that won't heal in time. No broken bones thankfully, although her ribs may take longer time healing."

Lancelot's heart suddenly dropped to his stomach as a thought came to mind. There had been at least a dozen Angles in that cave.

"And-" He cleared his throat and moved away from Guinevere, pulling the physician to the far side of the room. "What of her-um..."

The physician frowned and Lancelot feared the worst.

"She is completely untouched," he said. "Which I find the most perplexing of all, to be honest."

"Well certainly. Those men were brutes."

"No, I mean-" He glanced at the queen. "Her virtue is completely in tact. She is clearly a virgin, Sir knight."

Lancelot swallowed hard.

"Are you sure?" he said, trying his best to sound surprised. The physician nodded.

"Yes," he said. "And although this is fortunate given her recent circumstances, it could mean something greater for the kingdom than this one event."

"But- you were in the wedding chambers on the night in which they consummated their marriage," Lancelot protested. "You confirmed that she had been deflowered and the ceremony was complete."

The physician drew in a deep breath and shook his head.

"I am tired," he said. "I spent an eternity waking you from your slumber. You might as well have been under a spell. The queen as well. I was afraid you would not wake, but all is well for now." He looked to Guinevere. "We will address this later. Goodnight."

With that, he retired, leaving the room far too big for Guinevere and the knight.

* * *

_Tohsaka Mansion_

"How could they be drinking together?" Tousaka Tokiomi pondered this as he sat alone in his workshop that lay underground. "They haven't even draw a weapon on each other?"

"Apparently not," said Kirei. "But are you sure you should be concerning yourself with this or rather what my messenger brought back?"

Tokiomi mumbled under his breath. The act of Gilgamesh deliberately transferring his own mana to Saber disturbed him, as well as the conversation between them. Who was this swordsman that his Servant was so obsessed with? What was their history?

"Apparently, Rider may know something about those two as well," Kire's voice came through the phonograph into the workshop. "Do you really believe it is safe to leave Archer alone at this point in the War?"

"At this rate, it can't be helped."

"As long as no swords are drawn, Archer would not reveal his Noble Phantasm."

"Right."

There was a pause between the two Masters.

"Do you think we should strive to eliminate Saber first in order to pull Archer's focus back to the Grail?"

Tokiomi laughed grimly.

"Something tells me that would only anger him further." He thought long and hard. "We should direct our focus onto Rider. I have a feeling his 'Gordius Wheel' is not the extent of his power...he's hiding something far more powerful."

"So we need to exploit it," said Kirei.

"Precisely." Tokiomi sat up in his seat. "We need to go through with the plan you and I discussed."

"I understand." There was a pause. "It will take a few minutes to gather all the Assassins together."

"Then do it, and give the command. This is a gamble, but we will hardly lose anything from it."

* * *

_Northern Border of France_

News of Queen Guinevere's recovery had reached Arturia two days later. The message had been directly from Lancelot, and he mentioned the situation with the physician regarding Guinevere's virtue.

An exhausted groan was all she could give the letter. She made sure that everything had been said and then read, and then she lit the letter aflame and immediately poured herself some wine. She now cursed her constitution for being so strong against the drink. After two cups alone, she looked at the ashes of the letter, and then towards the entrance of the tent. Another groan escaped her lips and she set down the cup. She would probably regret this.

Two guards, as usual, were posted outside her tent. A small force of British soldiers had met them at the camp a few days prior in preparation to take the king back to the ship that would hasten them back to Britannia for the final battle. Arturia dismissed the guards, telling them she was off to Gilgamesh's tent for some last minute logistics.

She noticed the half a dozen men surrounding Gilgamesh's tent, but decided not to judge him this time. She approached the entrance and one guard stopped her briefly to poke his head into the tent to inform the king of her arrival. Gilgamesh came out himself to greet Arturia, clearly perplexed by her motive.

"You men should get your rest before we leave," he said, not taking his gaze off Arturia. "I will call for another shift of guards soon."

The men simply nodded and they all left in a uniform manner. Gilgamesh, still staring at Arturia quizzically, held open the tent flap for her to enter.

"What brings you here, little king?" he asked, once the tent was closed to them. His voice held a hint of caution.

"I decided that it would be wiser to come here to talk rather than reach for the mead every time something new and difficult arises in my life," said Arturia, looking around the king's lavish tent. "Otherwise, I may gain a reputation for being a drunk."

Gilgamesh watched her as she walked to the center of his tent. Her shoulders sunk a little deeper and she dragged her feet, her hands, usually always clenched in a tight fist, hung loosely at her side. It took him a moment to respond.

"Erm... what has happened?" he asked. "Have you received word on your queen."

"I have."

There came an awkward silence as Gilgamesh waited for her to continue.  
"And?"

"She is back safe. Apparently, a group of Angles strayed into our territory and took her; for whatever reason we do not know. They are all now dead now, thankfully, and Guinevere is relatively unharmed."

"Arturia, you are failing to mention how this is at all an unfortunate situation," said Gilgamesh.

"Apparently," she said, turning to face him, "upon inspecting her for _deeper_ injuries, the royal physician discovered that Guinevere was still a virgin."

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose that could cause a bit of a scandal for the crown."

"Especially if they demand that they watch another consummation," Arturia snapped, placing her fingers to her temples. "It was difficult enough getting away with it on my wedding night, but this could cause everything to crumble. Five years for naught."

Gilgamesh watched her; she could feel his eyes burning red into her. She couldn't believe she had thought coming to him would help, this arrogant king who probably loved scandals more than anything. Yet she still found solace in the one man who knew her little secret and did not openly show some sort of disdain for her. And Lancelot was too far away from which to seek condolence. Arturia leaned against a desk for support as her head began to ache more.

"Arturia," Gilgamesh said hesitantly. "You once said that you usually practice archery to get your mind off of distressing matters." He crossed his arms and walked to the center of the room. "Have you ever considered that you simply might be too high-strung lately?"

"You insult me," she growled. "I have an entire kingdom's fate riding on my shoulders and my shoulders alone and-"

"That is exactly my point," Gilgamesh snapped back. "You bear a heavy burden Arturia. A bit less so now that your queen is safe, but even that has caused a new chapter of hardships for you. And yet you rely on no one for support, no one for comfort, not even your knights are allowed your council."

Arturia swallowed hard, trying hard to properly organize everything in her head, with all that was now weighing down the crown, threatening to crush her.

"You do little to stifle the weight of that burden," she countered. "I do not know why I thought it wise to come to you. I do not _rely_ on anyone. I make sacrifices for my people, I am prepared to do so. Sometimes my well being is simply one of those things that must be sacrificed."

"Oh for the love of the gods," Gilgamesh groaned. He stomped over to her and slammed his hands onto the table that lay behind her. Arturia suddenly felt caged;no, she _was_ caged.

" _How dare_ -"

Gilgamesh's sharp voice cut through hers, stopping her short.

"The only thing you are sacrificing right now is any shred of humility for your own health and well being," he said lowly. "Your damned ideals are not something you can feed with your body and soul. Eventually, that will run dry and you will have nothing, and by then, no one will want to comfort a shell." He bore his gaze into hers and clenched his teeth. "I have kept my distance and held my tongue, but now I fear I can stand by no more."

"Stand by what?"

Gilgamesh raised his head slightly, looking at her from a different angle, waiting for her to figure it out herself.

"It's clear enough you do not _love_ your queen in any way most kings do their wives." He paused. "You don't really believe that the amount of frustration you feel can be quelled by aggressive archery every morning, do you?"

Arturia couldn't help but watch him move. His shoulders shifted as he supported himself safely away from her. Even as he encircled her against the table, he had not touched her once. She blinked and tore her gaze away, but not quickly enough for him not to notice. He chuckled.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"If I said yes," she said through her teeth, "would you move away and let me leave?"

"Of course," he said. "But you won't leave." He smiled knowingly. "You don't want to."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because no matter how much you try to deny it, you are a woman, and women have just as many _sinful_ desires as men. And you haven't given a straightforward yes or no yet. You're dancing around what you want and what you want me to believe that you want."

Arturia suddenly laughed.

"You are mad," she said, placing her hands on either side of the table for support as she leaned further from him. "And you obviously know nothing about me as a woman."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them; for a malevolent grin curled on Gilgamesh's lips and he leaned in even closer.

"Oh, Arturia," he purred as if tasting her name like honey, or to Arturia, like fresh prey. "I know more of you as a woman than all of your people think of you as a man."

The little king stood her ground, but she felt herself cracking, something bubbling up through the seams as Gilgamesh got closer.

"I know your heartbeat quickens when I near you. I have seen the blood rush to the surface of your skin when I've touched you, and now, I haven't even laid a finger on you and you are as flush as the sunset. It's quite charming really." His grin softened. "And I know you have never been addressed or been touched as a woman until I discovered your little secret." He pursed his lips as his eyes raked down her frame. "You really never have been intimate with anyone, had you?"

Arturia shook her head, and then found her voice.

"If you are implying that I have fallen in love with you, then you are gravely mistaken."

"No." His answer was quick and blunt, and he raised an eyebrow. "And neither am I in love with you." He pushed one hand off the table and placed one hand under Arturia's chin. "But I cannot deny the desire I have for you. And although you may stay silent, your body speaks for itself, and I think I've gotten my answer."

"And what would give you that impression?"

Gilgamesh grinned.

"You haven't tried to kill me," he said, running his finger down her throat. "Even after I just touched you."

Arturia swallowed under his touch. Her palms grew moist and her heartbeat quickened.

"You broke your vow."

"And yet here I stand, unscathed." His grin widened. "I've stared more horrifying danger in the eyes before, but then again, it was not nearly as beautiful as you are, or as- obvious—"

The sound of Arturia's palm impacting with Gilgamesh's cheek was louder and harder than she had intended. He lurched away from the hit, spinning as he did. He stumbled into a chair in his path, but then caught himself on it. Arturia's eyes burned into his as they flared like fire back at her. She imagined that he had never been struck before in his life, but she neither feared nor cared about what sort of wrath she may have evoked from deep inside him. But she also took note of the ornate lance that decorated a desk just a few feet away, just in case. For a long while, they just stared each other down, Arturia now standing tall against Gilgamesh, despite the height difference.

"You are a brave woman, are you aware of that?" he said dizzily, rubbing the side of his face; his tone somehow showed both anger and humor. Arturia narrowed her eyes.

"It is one of my traits I have full confidence in," she replied calmly, not willing to back down. "Do you have anything you want to say to me for that?"

"Only that you should be thankful that we're not back in Babylon."

"Do you really think that?" said Arturia. "Would you really have had me killed for _you_ breaking the vow that _you_ made to never touch me without my permission?"

"Well," Gilgamesh couldn't help but smirk just a little. "You still didn't try to kill me." He made a face.

Arturia raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. She must regain control.

"That is because I am giving you another chance first," she said.

"Your palms are clammy..." He mumbled to himself, rubbing his cheek as she spoke. "Wait what?" He glanced up. "What did you say?"

The little king then asked herself if she had the bravery to do what she had on her mind. She took a few steps towards Gilgamesh, looked him up and down for good measure, and then tilted her gaze up to meet his. They were dangerously close again, but it was he who was now confused.

"I am giving you another chance," she said quietly. "To ask for my permission."

He went slack-jawed, wincing a bit from the skin on his face that still stung. It was starting to turn red. Arturia's mind sidetracked to the thought that people would see that mark later on. Her stomach dropped before Gilgamesh brought her back to the present.

"This is humiliating...Arturia," he said, after taking a moment to run a hand through his hair for composure. "Will you let me touch you?"

She did not answer right away, deciding to let him wait on it for a little bit. Her expression still bore that of anger from earlier, but neither was Gilgamesh about to budge. He was not about to beg, but he was clearly getting agitated by having to wait.

"Artu-"

"Yes."

He suddenly seemed unsure of what to do, as if his advances mere moments earlier had meant nothing. Arturia felt powerful then, to have brought such a lust driven man to the point of being too dumbfounded to act on his own desires, and all because she demanded acknowledgement. They said nothing to each other as she waited for his mind to start working again. Finally, he moved closer to Arturia, slowly, cautiously. He first took a lock of hair that framed her face between his fingers and ran down until it met her chin. Arturia instinctively averted her gaze, but found herself meeting his eyes when he rested his fingers below her chin and tilted her face to his.

Gilgamesh began to lean in before a loud voice from outside the tent startled them both apart.

"My king!" cried a man that sounded like General Haddad. "We have urgent news!"

The two kings leaped apart as the general entered the tent with a soldier following him.

"Oh, King Arthur," said Haddad. "I wasn't aware you were meeting with him today."

"It's fine, Haddad," said Gilgamesh, his gaze still stuck on Arturia. "What is it?"

"Williame's forces are starting to move from their posts as a mass," said the messenger behind him. "I'm afraid they are all headed to an armada that is prepared to leave this evening for Britannia."

Haddad directed his attention to Arturia.

"Your majesty, we have to leave now."


	13. Chaos Before the Storm

_Coast of France_

Gilgamesh felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of chaos as the troops prepared to leave camp. He watched his own soldiers don their armor and gather their weapons in a haste.

"The naval militia is ready to leave," said General Hadad. "And I have also received word that our ships have arrived at Calais to receive us."

"And our land troops?" said Gilgamesh, searching the area for any of the knights, but they were further up the camp.

"They have left with Nin-girisu and Sin-baladan." Hadad looked to the skies out of habit for his falcon; Gilgamesh assumed he had sent the bird back to the ships. "They took all the cavalry to sabotage, or at best, delay Williame's advancing. We move to the ships on your word."

Gilgamesh nodded and looked around. He spotted the image of Enkidu waltzing around camp, following soldier after soldier until he came to Gilgamesh's side.

"Looking for your little lioness, Gil?" he purred. "She may have scuttled off to defend her land."

Gilgamesh inhaled deeply, hoping a _heavier_ breath of the fresh air might blow away the cursed hallucination before him.

"Go away," he groaned.

"Yes, Your Highness" said Hadad. Gilgamesh blinked.

"No no," he clenched his teeth, gesturing to his head. "Not you. Stay."

"Yes, Your Highness." Obedient as always. "I wait on your word."

Gilgamesh shook his head, freeing the hair from his eyes, and started to walk towards the Brits' portion of the camp.

"Be ready to leave when I return," he said, not bothering to turn and face his general.

"Yes, my King."

It was not a long trek, but was still agonizing with Enkidu now floating in the air at his side.

"It's a shame you never got to have her," he said, making motions as if swimming through the air. "Even more so if one of you doesn't make it through this battle."

"Leave me be," Gilgamesh muttered, irritation creeping into his tone. "Leave my sight."

"I'm only here because you want me to be." Enkidu grinned earnestly. "I speak the truth when you refuse to believe it."

"There is no truth in divination," said Gilgamesh. "You do not predict death on the battlefield, so still your dead tongue and begone!"

"Are you ill?" came a new voce from behind him. He turned to see Arturia mounted on a horse, dressed in full armor, and her holy sword by her side.

"What a beautiful image," said Enkidu, approaching Arturia. "Oh, I can see it in your eyes, Gil." He leaned against the horse. "You _really_ wish you had had more time to have your way with her now." He chuckled. "Suddenly you have an affinity for a fetching girl in armor, no?"

"No," said Gilgamesh, to both Enkidu and Arturia. "No I am not ill. Simply anticipating the battle to come." He eyed the mare. "You ride to reach your ships more quickly?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Hopefully your cavalry can buy us some time to prepare the ships. I already sent back Merlin's owl to brace for our arrival."

"Oh," said Enkidu. "Oh you are really starting to like this warrior woman."

Gilgamesh pressed his lips into a tight line.

"Then ride with power and speed, little king," he said, making an effort to keep his demeanor about him. "I look forward to seeing you on the high seas."

The face that Arturia made was hard for him to decipher. The two shared an uncertain silence together among the bustle of the army's preparations. Gilgamesh saw Sir Gawain and Sir Bedivere from afar and steeled himself even more.

"And I pray for your men in battle," Arturia said, her eyes returned to their usual fortified gaze. "After I drive the French tyrant from my lands once and for all, we may speak of the Grail."

Sir Gawain rode up next to his king first to tell her they were ready to depart.

"Thank you." Arturia shifted in her saddle. "We will leave post-haste."

Gilgamesh found his presence a sudden burden on the British king and her knights, and then made his way back to his general to leave for his own ships.

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

The wine in the golden pitcher had run out a while ago. Then Gilgamesh and Arturia had resorted to Iskander's rice wine for their begrudging competition. Neither showed signs of giving in. It was only when Iskander began to mock Arturia's ideals of a king that the red in her cheeks became more apparent. Whether or not it was because of her drinking or anger was irrelevant to Iskander.

"I don't understand what there is to laugh about," said Arturia, clenching the gold cup in her armored grip. "As kings, it is only natural to sacrifice ourselves, to strive to create a better country!" She almost seemed as if she would start to blow smoke out of her ears. "I gave my life to save my kingdom from one who would dare claim the title of my successor and threatened to raze Camelot to the ground for their ideals. I acted as a king, not a girl, to protect my land."

Iskander noticed the shift in Gilgamesh's expression.

"But you did not—" The golden king stopped short. "That's not how you—"

Iskander ignored his sudden babble.

"No," he said to Arturia. "You're wrong." His voice was strong and hard; he would not show softness to the girl who claimed to be king. "It's not the king who sacrifices for the nation. The nation and the people sacrifice their lives for the king. You have it completely backwards."

"What?!" Arturia jumped to her feet, the cup of wine spilling about her, splashing violet against her armor. "Are those not the words of a tyrant? Rider, Archer, you bastards are nowhere near kings! You are heretics!"

"Yes we are," said Iskander sharply. "And therefore, we are heroes. We take full responsibility for our nations, and thus our people. Saber listen, if a king is not content with his kingdom, he is weak. To achieve perfection within one's rule, one must be a tyrant!"

"Your own empire became four warring factions that quickly disappeared into the sands of history," Arturia spat back. "Have you no regrets to such an end?" She clenched her fists. "If you could redo it, you would want to save your motherland…"

"No." Iskander met her gaze with the same fury. "No I do not. If my generals and I acted to cause the eventual demise of my nation, than so be it. I grieve, I shed tears, but I will have no regrets. Not one."

"What?"

"Don't you dare suggest something as silly as attempting to rewrite history. I doubt the Grail could even do such a thing. Such foolish actions are an insult to those who lived under my rule."

"You speak as a simple-minded fighter."

"And you speak as a slave to your ideals."

"Yes," Arturia proclaimed firmly. "Perhaps you could say that. The only one fit to rule is one who would willingly give themselves up for their ideals. Through the king, the people can understand and accept law and order. The king should not express something that would disappear upon their death, but something that lasts through their legacy."

Iskander merely scoffed, "That is not the path taken by a human. It simply cannot be done by man."

"Of course, as kings we cannot hope for a normal life of luxury and earthly pleasures. We have a responsibility."

"King of Knights, your justice and ideals may have been the salvation of your nation for a short time. So your name is still praised to this day. And yet those lives you saved still met a cruel end. You know that end right?"

A look of horror crossed the girl's face. He was winning.

"You only wanted to save your subjects," he continued. "But you never led them! They never knew your wishes, and you ignored those you lost, and yet you marinated in your envision of a saintly ruler. You were not a good king. You only wanted to be. You're just a little girl who spun a little cocoon around herself and shut out what the real problems of your rule were."

Arturia seemed lost for a moment, and then she shivered and glanced towards Gilgamesh who drank quietly but still studied her with his deep-red eyes. He said nothing.

"Why are you looking at me?" she demanded.

"I was studying your words," he said with a gentle smile. "And your expression. It reminds me of a certain king whose flower I'd scattered on her own bed…I miss that."

"You bastard!"

The sound came from the sheath of an invisible sword, but before Arturia could cut anyone down, the air suddenly went cold. Moments later, both of the Masters looked around as their Servants had suddenly gone quiet. About the courtyard, ghostly white orbs began to mist into existence, but Iskander saw that they were not orbs but the bone white masks of the Assiassins. They all had different bodies, even while they all wore masks. Some were completely clad in black robes, others hardly had ribbons to clothe themselves. Some stood over six feet tall, and the smallest one, a child by the looks of it, hardly peaked over the bushes from where she stood.

"Is this your doing, Archer?" said Iskander. Gilgamesh shrugged, not surprisingly, yet frustratingly to everyone else, unaffected by this new development of enemies.

"Who knows," he said casually. "I have no need to understand the hive mind of these curs."

Arturia whipped around, her fingers curled around the invisible blade. In the next split second, she rushed to her Master's side. Iskander recalled her name starting with an I? It did not matter.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arturia demanded, raising her sword. "Assassins appearing in multitudes? Is there not supposed to be one Servant per master? Per class?"

The multiple Servants began to laugh in unison, but no one could pin point if they were laughing specifically at anyone. There seemed a dark gaze that they could not meet, yet it pierced each and every one of them.

"You are correct, Servant of the Sword," they all said at once. "We are all acting as one Servant, and each individual is only a shadow of the whole."

"You mean… we've always been watched by these things?" said Arturia's Master.

"They mean to eliminate us, of course," Arturia said through gritted teeth. "They've trapped us."

Iskander wondered how easily Arturia could take down one of these Assassins with a single swing of her blade. It probably would not take much; their power relied in stealth , shadows, and silence.

"Rider, oi Rider!" Waver's voice began to tremble, as usual.

"Hey, kid, don't panic," he said. "It's just a few more guests to the party!"

"How are they guests!" His voice reached the brink of panic.

Iskander laughed heartily, and turned to address the Assassins that continued to just stand there, as if they had not received a command to attack.

"Of course they are guests!" he boomed, raising his cup to the looming figures. "My fellow Servants, relax! Don't be so solemn! You are scaring our friends."

Gilgamesh's mouth dropped as if suddenly unhinged by Iskander's words.

"King of Conquerors. Are you trying to invite them as well?"

"Yes!" said Iskander. "Here, don't be shy." He addressed Assassin once more. "If you want to drink with me, there are cups to be provided. This wine…is as your blood."

He had taken the ladle from the barrel once more and held it aloft to Assassin, offering. It took but a moment for a swift whistle flew through the air as something struck the ladle, leaving on the handle in Iskander's hand as the contents spilled onto the ground. The sweet crimson liquid spilled onto the cobblestone, and an eruption of laughter filled the courtyard

"Did you hear me wrongly?" said Iskander, now calm, but with different intentions entirely; he knew only Arturia and Gilgamesh could sense that aura. "I said, 'this wine is as your blood', did I not? Since you spilled it, thus are the consequences…"

* * *

_Coast of Britannia_

Lancelot awaited with the line of ships that remained in tact throughout this horrid war. He stood on the docks, looking out to the sea that reflected the warm colors of the evening sun. He had received word that Williame planned to sail in the evening and take Britannia by moonlight, and that the Babylonian cavalry would do everything they could to keep them from crossing the sea for as long as they could. Lancelot cursed under his breath, realizing how suddenly their plans could be thrown into chaos by the Bastard's quick to act military skills. He feared for the safety of those on the coast who still survived Williame's raids. He feared what might become of Camelot, of Britannia, of his queen if she was not able to flee in time, or if she even would be willing to. Despite their troubling time together, Lancelot was fully aware of Guinevere's political dedication to her husband and king.

There would be a red sun rising in the morning, and Lancelot could already taste and feel the blood he would be responsible for spilling this night.

"Williame's forces may do well on the sea, but once they are on land, they are practically unstoppable." The old whispery voice came from behind the knight; Lancelot did not have to turn to know it was Merlin. "So our ultimate ambition is to keep them in the sea until they sink."

"Will you be joining us on the ships?" Lancelot inquired, moving his hand from the hilt of Arondite to rest across his chest. "Will you lend us your power in the battle to come?"

The old man came to stand at his side and leaned on his staff. It was a simple looking walking stick, yet if one looked closer, they could see intricate yet natural crevices forming beautiful patterns up until it curled like roots around a roughly cut, cloudy green gem that had clearly seen better days.

"I can feel the sky stirring in these bones of mine," said Merlin. "Tonight may yet be a plentiful night for Britannia's true magic to shine across the seas." He gave a brief scoff and then coughed afterwards. "Thomas may yet survive this night if he does everything I've taught him so far."

"You would send your apprentice into this fight?" said Lancelot. "He's but a boy."

"And our king is but a girl," Merlin said in a blunt tone; Lancelot instinctively whipped his head around to insure no one listened to their conversation from the growing shadows. "Yet she still fights with the ferocity and strength of ten men."

"I would hardly place Thomas in the same standing as my king, Merlin. He has yet to grow into a man. Arturia has forced herself to become one."

Merlin shakily mumbled something under his breath and then shifted his weight from his staff to his legs.

"And tonight, they will be equals in the eye of the storm."

By now, even Lancelot could feel it. The sting in the air danced across the hairs on his arms, and the wind was oddly calm where he stood. Yet far out on the water, he could see the clouds forming, brewing the sea like a cauldron. And slowly, as the last rays of sun that illuminated the water were replaced by the nearly full moon, a single galley raced from the horizon. It was a small ship, but long with many rowers aggressively pushing against the water. They docked roughly and brief, and Lancelot watched as a single figure, donned in royal blue clothes and silver armor, leaped from the bow and wasted no time in finding council in her knights. Sir Agravian was instructing the organization of the fleet while Gareth and Gaheris ran the inspections of the amount of armor the soldiers would be wearing out to sea. Lancelot feared the balance between the weight of the armor dragging many men to a watery death versus risking not having sufficient protection while fighting on the ships. It took a moment for Lancelot to recognize that his king had made her way to him before all her other knights.

"Sir Lancelot," she said briskly, not out of breath, but seemingly wary of something. "Are you well?"

"Yes, my king," he said plainly. "I trust your journey went well."

"As well as it could be." Arturia looked to the ships. "How is the queen?"

Lancelot suddenly stopped short in his thoughts. He had always known, but he had not really thought about it until now, how much more he was valued over Guinevere to Arturia. She valued her strongest knight over her "beloved" queen. This stirred something strange inside him, it disturbed a sensation that seemed to have lain dormant, settled under the passing of life.

"Lancelot," Arturia said, starting him from his thoughts. "My queen?"

"She is recovering from her injuries," he said slowly. "But she will be well soon." He paused. "I fear she may refuse to flee if the battle does not go in our favor."

Arturia frowned.

"I would be more inclined to allow her to do such a thing were she in a better condition to stand her ground," she said; even Lancelot knew Guinevere was actually a good archer, despite what her exterior might suggest. "But now, she is still healing. If we have to get guards to drag her from her bed in order to spare her life, so be it."

Lancelot stiffly nodded in agreement. Perhaps that would have to be the last action in defiance to their demise.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for not updating as frequently as usual. College can be a bitch sometimes- most of the time...all of the time... I'll try to keep up a little more. Another big thanks to my beta readers for their help.


	14. Seawater, Blood, and Sand

Oceanus Britannicus

Williame's ships met them at the sea. The Brits channeled their love for their motherland into a force that met the Franks like the heavy rain of a storm. The seawater splashed against the hulls of their ships and sprayed salty water through the air like mist.

"We give no quarter!" the British king cried, raising her sword into the air. "We give no quarter to those who would take our homes from us!"

Her men rallied and cheered loud enough for the French ships to hear them. Williame was not among them.

The two armies went at full force, each rower's muscles straining with vigor for speed. They cut through the water and when they collided, they crashed through each other. Some vessels fell victim to the metal bows that split open hulls like an eggshell, hurling men and parts of the ship into the dark waters.

"Send them to the bottom of the sea!" cried the king, cutting a man down as he tried to board their ship; she yelled to the helm, "Turn!"

The rowers and helmsman steered their boat from another incoming ship, but not before it clipped into the stern, sending the helmsman and a soldier overboard. Another ship, a British ship came in and crashed into the French, sending even more into the waters. The decks were mixed with allies and enemies now, men jumping from ship to ship. Even some of the rowers had scrambled for a weapon as enemy men made their way below deck.

"Where are those Babylonians!" cried Lancelot as he kicked a man off of his sword. His king couldn't hear him. She was too occupied with dragging a fallen soldier out of the fray while simultaneously blocking the amateur swings from a young Frenchman.

Over the roar of the waters and the cries of battle, anyone close enough could hear the strange chantings from the bow of a British ship. Three soldiers stood around the cloaked old man, who leaned on his modest wooden staff. He continued to chant for a long period of time while the soldiers fought off the Franks trying to interrupt him. But then finally, all of the fighters were blown back in an unseen force, sending some overboard, some slamming into the mast, others onto one another. Merlin raised his arms to the sky, that begun to brew with clouds, black and swiftly swirling above. The top of his staff was beginning to crackle and burst with sparks and flecks of light, and then, more quickly than anyone could react, a bolt of lightning descended from the heavens, met with the staff, and then shot forth from Merlin's extended palm, striking into a French ship. Fire erupted under the dark sky, illuminating the silhouettes of burning men. This happened with two other ships before Merlin had to cease his casting to defend himself from a French soldier.

The surface of the water was splashing and wild with helpless men, drug down by their armor, or lack of ability to stay afloat, or each other pushing down another for a precious gulp of air. As the storm continued to brew, now uncontrolled by the wizard, illuminated with periodic strikes of lightning, a third fleet of ships coming from the north. The British king noticed them first and then raised her sword with a new found battle strength. The rows appeared liked the legs of an insect in the distance, crawling across the sea with a swiftness compared to that of a watery predator.

At the head, their king stood tall. Clad only from the waist down in armor, his sculpted torso was sprayed by the saltwater, mixing in with his bright hair, but his fiery eyes remained fierce and attentive. He held a bow as tall as he was, with an attendant next to him who held long arrows with frightening looking tips. The king fired swift and true into the throats, hearts and heads of the Franks, a feat by which even the British king was taken aback. She would have taken a morning star to the back of the head if the Babylonian king had not driven one of his arrows between the eyes of her would-be murderer. A silent exchange was made between the two monarchs before they resumed their fight.

Once close enough, the Babylonian king threw down his bow and took one of the many lances that were laid across his ship and hurled them at his enemies from afar. They struck true to their target. He leaped from his ship onto those of the Franks and, unarmed, wrestled down armored men onto the deck, cut them open with their own weapon, and continued onto his next opponent as the rain began to come down in dark sheets. The British king was dangerously distracted again, but only for a moment, and in that moment, a sudden burst of fire, force, and noise turned her vision black.

Einzbern Castle

Gilgamesh blinked and then no longer was he seated on cheap, hard cobblestone of the courtyard. His golden pitcher was nowhere to be seen, and a sudden but familiar dry air filled his nose and lungs. He inhaled deeply, memories blowing in from the scent of desert air. The sun beat down on his armor, heating the metal, but he did not mind. Iskander's Master, Waver, he thought his name was, sneezed and then spat into the sand. What a western child.

"Saber," said Iskander, turning to face both the other kings, "and Archer. The last question of our banquet." A knowing smile crept onto his broad face. "Is the king lonesome?"

Out of all the boisterous words that came from the Macdeonian cur's mouth, those in particular were the first to strike Gilgamesh true. As if it pierced his armor, his chest began to ache and he looked to Arturia who simply looked confused. She obviously took the words to a different place in her heart. This only heightened the pain, but he showed no sign of struggle, or distress, or longing.

The desert wind tossed about Iskander's thick red cape, the fur trim shivering and trembling wildly. He no longer wore his strange modern garb, the tight white shirt and denim pants. Gilgamesh snickered, masking the weight in his heart, but did not answer to Iskander. Arturia, on the other hand, took a stomp forward, which turned out less effective as her tiny foot sunk into the hot sand.

She snarled, "A king… a king has no choice but to be lonesome!"

"No—" the word escaped Gilgamesh's lips before he could stop himself. Arturia turned to him briefly, but Iskander's powerful voice drew her gaze back to him. Gilgamesh sighed.

"Wrong!" Iskander roared. "Wrong! Your answer is equal to Archers! You may as well not have spoken." He raised his arms on either side and inhaled deeply the hot air that blew all around them. "Let me teach you today what it means to be a true king!"

The sandstorm suddenly cleared, and Waver's voice was barely heard uttering the words, "A…a Reality Marble?" and under the skies, Gilgamesh was half convinced what he saw next was a mirage.

"Are you a magus?" Arturia asked, a horrified look on her face.

"Of course not," said Iskander. "This is not something I can do alone."

It was then that everyone else saw what Gilgamesh had spotted first. While the group of Assassins had been moved away from their party, now isolated from them, on the other side of the desert, approached a dark mass. Gilgamesh recognized this all too well. It was an army. As they approached, he noticed the difference in their faces, their weapons, their armor. Everything was unique about each man that marched behind Iskander's outstretched arms.

"All these beings are Servants!" said Waver, his eyes wide as he studied the army. Gilgamesh's eyebrows cocked with surprise. So this was Iskander's trump card.

"Behold," Iskander declared. "My unrivaled army! Ionioi Hetairoi!"

He stood among the cavalry, his chest puffed out with pride. A horse with no riders trotted up to Iskander and nudged him gently. Its hair was dark and sleek, with legs that looked as solid as stone. Rider's proud smile suddenly turned childish as he addressed the mare.

"Long time no see, my friend," he said, hugging the neck of the horse. "Bucephalus."

Had his horse even become a Heroic Spirit? Gilgamesh thought about this briefly, but it did not linger in his mind. Everyone else, including him, was speechless. Arturia began to tremble and Gilgamesh longed to stand and comfort her, but with those around, he remained cross-legged and cross-armed, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He knew his duty right now was to study Iskander's Noble Phantasm in order to overcome it later, but he wasn't really worried about that. Perhaps this would be a worthy adversary for his precious Ea.

"The King lives to the fullest!" said Iskander, directly at Arturia. "He lives more fully than anyone else! He is a figure of admiration to his people!"

He mounted his steed, and suddenly the soldiers began to chant in unison, "He gathered the will of every courageous being! He marched toward that dream and began his long conquest! That is our king, thus the King is never lonesome! His wishes are our wishes!"

Arturia stepped back and then fell to her knees next to Irisviel, wrapping his arms around her. Gilgamesh was not sure if this gesture was for her own comfort or to protect Irisviel from what may yet come of this frightening army.

"Alright, Assassin," said Iskander, his grin turning malevolent. "Let us see who has the better numbers now."

Gilgamesh did not watch as Iskander and his army charged passed them, letting out their battle cries with their leader's command of "Trample them!" He merely closed his eyes and listened as the thunder of a thousand pair of feet charged past them, past Arturia and Irisviel, past Waver, and made straight for the Assassins. This would soon not be a battle, but a massacre. An autumn leaf would have given more resistance under Gilgamesh's boot than the Assassin's gave to the incoming army. He heard cries of anguish, the sound of blade to flesh, the splatters of blood, gargles of the dying, and then he heard nothing.

Oceanus Britannicus

Arturia's tiny breasts pressed against her chest plate with heavy breaths. She had been forced, by Sir Bedivere, to sit down after the battle, because he had seen her blown to the ground by the concussive force of one of Merlin's combustive spells. He had said he feared his king's health from that blast, and so, Arturia sat against the mast, watching as the little streams of blood and saltwater flowed back and forth with the rocking of the ship. With the battle over, there were no cries of war to drown out the cries of pain now. The injured, dying and drowning wailed all about her and she felt helpless to assist her people. It was still raining, so the creeks of blood slowly disappeared.

"My King."

Arturia looked up to the bloodied face of Sir Gawain. It seemed like suddenly, not so long ago, she had seen this same vision before her. Her loyal knight, painted with the blood of enemies and allies, yet always a compassionate look on his face. The rain pattered against his face, causing a pink drip to trickle into his eye. He blinked it away and wiped his brow.

"A Babylonian ship wishes to board us," he said. "Their king aboard."

Arturia gave a dazed nod and a half-hearted wave of her hand, indicating consent to board. After a series of thuds and a harsh rocking of the boat, multiple new sets of boots skittered across the deck. A pair of golden armored boots came to stand in front of Arturia, and she looked up to see Gilgamesh. Still only half clothed in armor, his bare chest now spattered with blood and glistening with rainwater. His hair drooped down, dripping like its own little raincloud.

"Are you injured?" was the first thing he asked her. She shrugged; she honestly was not sure. Her head ached and her ears rung. If she turned her head too swiftly she would see stars. Gilgamesh squatted in front of her and rested his elbows on his knees.

"How about your knights?" he asked. She shook her head. She was pretty sure they were all in good health considering. It were her foot soldiers that she feared for the most. Both kings remained in silence for a long time among the post-war chaos. The Babylonian men were moving injured men to another ship. Lancelot paused while passing the two kings, but not for long. Arturia did not seem to notice him.

"We were victorious," said Gilgamesh. "Your people can sleep well now."

Arturia did not smile. She only let out a long breath, and a drop of someone else's blood trickled down her sweat-moistened cheek. Gilgamesh frowned.

"Are you unhappy?"

She shook her head.

"Are you tired?"

She nodded.


	15. The Song Sung by Lovers

**A/N: This chapter contains mature sexual content. As if the M on the story description hasn't dropped that hint already, just dropping another one here if you wish to proceed. I doubt anyone won't proceed so... enjoy.  
**

* * *

_Camelot_

Steam mushroomed from the copper tub and billowed profusely under the low ceiling. Gilgamesh felt rather cramped in such a small bed chamber, but he supposed the Brits were forced to be more conservative in their architecture to keep in the heat for the harsh winters. He didn't give it much more thought though, and closed his eyes, soaking in the much welcomed heat of the bath.

Enkidu had not appeared to him since before the great battle. It had been rather quiet for the past couple of days, even in slumber. He didn't even dream of his dead friend, which had been more often than not. He had also not heard from Arturia in the past days, but he had assumed that was because the royal physician had ordered the overly dedicated king into bed until recovery from Merlin's friendly fire.

Somehow, he doubted that Arturia would stay in bed so long as there was still post-war logistics to be sorted out, villages to be rebuilt, crops to be re-sewn. It was most likely a very tedious process.

"His Highness is indisposed," said the muffled voice of his chamber guard from outside the door. "He is not seeing anyone right now."

"Inform him that King Arthur wishes to speak with him as soon as he is available."

"Send him in," said Gilgamesh, recognizing Arturia's voice. "We can speak."

The door opened and closed behind the British king, and she did not seem entirely pleased to catch him in the tub, despite the copper walls being tall enough to conceal him from where she now stood.

"Is this entirely necessary?" she asked, sounding less irritated than he had expected. He grinned.

"Can two men not civilly converse like this?" he made a light gesture to the tub. "It's not as if there are any differences among us, _Arthur_."

Arturia pursed her lips, her face turning redder by the second.

"I suppose not," she said through tight teeth, her gaze flickering to the door.

"I've ordered my guards to leave whenever you and I converse alone." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. "Private matters of kings and whatnot."

He heard Arturia's voice catch.

"What was it you wanted to discuss with me?" he asked. Arturia cleared her throat.

"Right," she said. "Well, I've received word that Williame was recently assassinated, shortly after his army's defeat at sea. Haddad's falcon brought this news from a scout of yours that stayed in Normandy."

Gilgamesh tried to act surprised.  
"Was he now?" he said, lulling his head to the side to look at her; a sly smile crept onto his face. "That's an interesting development."

"Do you know anything about this?"

"I have many resources at my disposal," he said, tracing his fingers through the surface of the water. "Information gatherers, craftsmen." He flickered his gaze to Arturia who still stood in front of the closed door. "Killers."

She looked at him strangely.

"But," he continued. "It may very well not have been at my order. The Bastard had many who hated him, correct?" She didn't answer. "Why are you standing on formalities now of all times? Won't you come closer?"

Neither her feet nor her expression moved. She said nothing, did nothing. Gilgamesh sighed and propped his arms on either side of the tub.

"You know," he said. "The last time that I was in a setting such as this, bathing I mean, the girl willingly gave herself to me upon my command." He looked at her with lust behind his eyes. "But she was not a king, just a messenger girl bringing me news of your kingdom in peril."

This got a reaction from her.

"Do you do this to all innocent girls who come to you?"

Gilgamesh laughed.

"No," he said. " _You_ are by no means innocent."

Arturia opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand to stop her.

"You may be _untouched_ by man, women, whomever, but you have seen the heart of war, you have killed without a second thought, and you are no child. You made that clear very early on." His eyes travelled down her body, imagining what was under her tunic and slacks; he wished he had brought the dress she'd worn in Babylon. "Of all things, I find that—ferocity to be a new desire of mine."

Arturia shifted, her legs tightening together.

"You—" she stopped. "If you are here to say nothing on the matter I have come to you for then—"

"Come here."

He extended a hand to her, but she did not move.

"You do not command me," she said through her teeth.

"I am fully aware I cannot command a king in her own court." He rolled his eyes. " _Will_ you come here?"

"No."

He frowned.

"Were you merely playing with me in my tent, little king?" he said. "Or are you just reverting to the shy maiden under that manly facade?"

"I have seen my fair share of naked men," she countered.

"Then why won't you come?"

"You know very well why." Her voice grew hard. "You see me as a woman, a girl."

"A king."

For some reason, that last line was what compelled Arturia to move, rather quickly, towards the tub.

"Yes, because I _am_ king," she said as she approached. "And here I stand, on my own accord, untouched, while you sit there, naked and defenseless, and boast of your deviant conquests of women."

"They are no conquests," said Gilgamesh, meeting her gaze up close; he was unfazed. "A thousand naked virgins cannot hold a candle to the mighty treasure who stands before me now."

Arturia halted at the edge of the tub, her eyes lit anew with a green fire that burned with both power and conflict. He had caught her off guard.

"Flattery?" she said, clenching her jaw. With that, Gilgamesh stood up and faced her. Her eyes flickered down for a brief moment, and then she averted her gaze from him entirely. A deep rushed to her cheeks. He took her chin in his damp grip and turned her face up to his. He bore a wicked grin.

"What?" she said through clenched teeth. He leaned in, grazing her ear with his lips.

"I may not be wearing any clothes," he whispered. "But, right now, I'm starting to wonder which one of us is really naked."

Her voice hitched wonderfully in her throat. As she drew in her next breath, Gilgamesh tilted her head to the side and gently kissed below her beautiful jawline. The delicious noise that escaped Arturia's lips stirred his arousal even more. He growled against her skin and bore his teeth. With the lightest of bites into her neck, Arturia lurched forward and clung to his sides. Gilgamesh reached around her waist with his free arm and pulled her flush against his frame. Water soaked into her tunic.

"Oh my little king," he murmured, pulling away to watch her face. He held her gaze as he trailed hand beneath her tunic and between her clenched thighs, resting his fingers there. Her mouth dropped open and he leaned down, hovering his lips over hers.

"Sing for me."

* * *

_Einzbern Castle_

They had been set back into the material world before Arturia could watch the dismembered bodies of the Assassins disappear into the dust of the earth. She breathed heavily, suddenly furious.

"How disappointing," Rider murmured to himself as he finished the wine in his cup. She said nothing to him, but Gilgamesh did.

"Indeed, no matter how weak the curs, it must have been quite the effort for you, the king, to take down this many, hmm?" he moved only his eyes to Rider. "You really are a thorn in my side."

Rider shrugged and stood with a smile.

"Well now that all has been said, we may close our little banquet."

Arturia found her voice.

"Hold on, Rider. I'm not finished—"

"Be quiet."

Arturia's jaw hung open, dumbfounded.

"Tonight, we had a banquet for kings," he pierced her gaze with his. "But I do not recognize you as a king anymore. You're just a little girl, slumbering under a painful dream from which you need to wake up. And someday you will lose the self-respect of a mere hero. You are no king."

"No I—"

But Rider did not listen to her. He had already mounted his chariot with his trembling Master in tow, and disappeared into flashes of lightning in the sky.

Arturia's knees trembled, not with fear, but rage. Boiling anger that rushed through her veins, heating her fingertips that longed to draw Excalibur and hack the tyrant to pieces. She tried not to look at the remaining king who calmly sipped his wine next to her. He still sat in a relaxed cross-legged position.

"He's wrong you know," he said quietly, but with confidence. "Your beliefs as a king are yours and yours alone."

"You were mocking me moments ago, and yet you disguise the bile that now pours from your mouth in the form of words as flattery?" her voice was ice cold. Gilgamesh stood, swirling what little wine was left in his cup.

"The way you ruled your people," he continued calmly, towering over her. "The way you were prepared to give anything, everything for your kingdom—" He met her eyes. "That was the final reason that convinced me to aid you in your battle against Williame."

Arturia looked to Irisviel in case she knew any gaps in her own memory. The woman said nothing.

"You joined the war because you wanted the Holy Grail," she said. "You wanted eternal youth."

"Well, you're not wrong." His tone was blunt. "The most frustrating part about trying to convince you of what happened between us is that I don't know what you do and don't remember."

Arturia made a noise that almost seemed like a growl. Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes.

"I never declared this banquet over," he said.

"You do not command me," she shot back. Then, he made a face that was hard for her to describe to herself. No, she did recognize it. There was a certain spark in his eyes that came and went in a flash and left them lackluster. Every time he seemed to be recalling something that brought him pain, an emotion she was shocked he could even conjure from the cavity where his heart would be.

"No, I do not," he said, and was quiet for a moment. "Will you discuss them with me? I draw no weapons, I do not threaten your woman over there. Your Master is not around at the moment to command you to run me through."

"You think he would require the use of Command Seal for that?" Arturia retorted. Gilgamesh sighed.

"I would think that you of all the Servants would want to remember her entire past and why your kingdom flourished and then fell so quickly." He furrowed his brows. "I can tell you. I know what happened in Camelot. I know what happened in Babylon." He paused. "I know what happened on Camlann."

Arturia's breath caught in her throat. How could he possibly know— no, of course he did. Everyone know of King Arthur's demise at the Battle of Camlann and her final trip to Avalon.

"You could be lying," she remarked.

"For the gods, you are a stubborn woman!" Gilgmamesh threw his cup down, which shattered on the stone ground. He grabbed Arturia's face between his hands, his eyes hard, angry.

"It just takes little words, phrases for you to go into an episode and remember the forgotten," he said. "Listen to me, listen to my words, Arturia!"

"Get off me!" she cried. Just as Excalibur was materializing in her hand, as the blood began to rush to her ears, blocking out the noise of the world with her fury finally boiling over. She watched Gilgamesh's lips move to form one sentence before the world turned into another flash of visions and memories that evoked a violent stirring in her gut.

_Sing for me._

* * *

_Camelot_

Arturia felt dizzy, hot, and... lustful. A mix of emotions and desires that she had never allowed herself to feel before until she'd entered Gilgamesh's tent not so long ago. And here she was now, like a rag doll under his touch.

"I am afraid you have a poor choice in lovers," said Arturia, her mouth going dry. "I know nothing of the earthly pleasures that you are implying. I- hahhh..."

Her voice broke into a gasp as she felt Gilgamesh's lips press to her throat again, but he kissed further down and gripped her belt. She reflexively dug her nails into his flesh as she felt the bones in his taut knuckles press against her hot belly. He groaned into her skin, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end.

"Hold onto me," he said, urgent against her neck, and then reached behind her, grabbed hard onto her thighs, and hoisted her up into his arms. Arturia could feel him hard against her; she was overwhelmed, unsure what to do, if anything other than cling to Gilgamesh's neck, squeezing her eyes shut. All she was aware of was the wandering hands of the king that held her fast against him and the way his lips grazed against her skin. She realized she had forgotten to breathe when he bit down right below her ear. She gasped. Every time he got the opportunity to surprise her, he chuckled, which made Arturia squirm in his arms.

She had not even noticed that he had carried her over to the bed until she fell onto her back against the light furs and linen comforters.

He loomed over her like a beast, taking her hair and pulling it free from its tie. He pulled her head back by her golden locks and kissed her hard, for a long time, exploring her. Running his hands along her skin gave her sensations she could have only imagined before. She needed something to hold on and wove her hands into his hair while he kissed down her throat again.

"Say yes."

"Hm...?" It took a moment for Arturia to realize that Gilgamesh had said something over the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

"Say yes to me," he whispered against her skin. His hand trailed down her waist and onto her thigh where it rested on the inside, her tunic bunched up in his fist. Where had her belt gone?

"I-ahh..." She paused when he came up to meet her gaze, his eyes hooded and hungry, burning for her. "Y-ye-"

Before her full answer had left her mouth, Gilgamesh reclaimed her lips as he pulled off her slacks and undergarments in one motion and sunk his fingers into her. Every one of her moans and gasps were his to breathe and taste, to memorize with every passing second. But he stopped, and before she could ask why, she'd realized how loud she had been and her skin was even hotter than before.

"Ahh...Gilgamesh..." Arturia pulled him down against her lips. "Please..."

"You have to be quiet," he whispered, unable to hide the smirk on his face. "You'll give yourself away, and you _really_ sound like a woman now."

He withdrew his hand. His fingers were slick, and Arturia's breath grew ragged again.

"Weren't prepared for that were you?" he teasted, and Arturia shook her head. Little more than inane stammers came from the little king's mouth. She slid her hands from his hair to his chest, feeling the ridges and peaks between her tiny fingers. He felt far into her again, taking in her moans like nectar.

"I-ah!" Arturia squirmed and writhed under his touch.

"Isn't this better than shooting a bow?" said Gilgamesh, moving his fingers as he spoke in her ear. "I can make you feel things you've once thought sinful." His breath was hot on her skin. "And I can make. You. Love. Them."

Her breasts rose and fell dramatically, but as she watched Gilgamesh slink down her body, she felt as if she forgot how to breathe again. He never wavered, even as Arturia began to tremble at his touch when he trailed up her legs and pushed them further apart. He knew how to play with her and he knew that she knew.

"I know what you feel like, little lioness," he said with his lips pressed to her inner thigh. "Now let's see what you taste like."

She had not had enough time to think about the pet name when the flick of his tongue sent a jolt up her spine, heating up to the tips of her ears. Her back arched and she clung to the soft linen that was starting to grow damp from her clammy palms.

"Ahh!" She squirmed as he drew his tongue up and down her center. She moved so much that Gilgamesh gripped her hips in his strong hands, holding her down against the bed. He kissed from thigh to thigh, looking up to meet her gaze.

"Oh I'd love to hear you roar," he said, and then ran his tongue up her leg. Arturia dug her hands into his forearms as he bathed her under his warm tongue. The alien sensation began to build up as he continued, heating in her legs, her stomach. She struggled to slow her breathing, wondering if she should even try anymore.

It tickled.

It felt good.

It felt _so_ good, that it drove her mad as it built and built inside until she could no longer hold her breath. All of her frustration, her stress, her anger and exhaustion released in one muffled cry of ecstasy into her hand as she tried to keep down the burst of pure pleasure that surged through her. Her back arched far off the bed, and Gilgamesh let her writhe as he finished her, dragging his nails along her hips.

Arturia's body felt hot, her skin pricked with everything that she touched and everything that touched her. She flushed bright pink from head to toe and lay breathless, sinking into the sweat dampened bedding. She- smiled.

Gilgamesh wiped the back of his hand across his chin and crawled over her body to meet her gaze.

"Better than archery?" he asked with a smirk. Arturia's mouth hung open with heavy breaths, and heavy limbs, and heavy skin. Her whole body just felt—so heavy. Gilgamesh placed his thumb beneath her lower lip and looked at her, amused.

"Hmm?"

She nodded wordlessly. He grinned. Her bangs clung to her wet forehead, and Gilgamesh brushed them from her face.


	16. A Lull in the Rush

_Camelot_

Time passed, and Arturia began to worry about how her people around her were starting to look at their king. Did they suspect anything? Did they wonder what she did behind more frequently closed doors?

Out of anyone who was at risk of discovering, a select few of Arturia's knights made a note to her mood, specifically, how it had improved. They usually tied it to their recent victory against the Franks.

But Arturia still bore the burden of a heavy crown. She held the kingdom soley on her shoulders. She struggled to balance the ties she had with her queen, her knights, and now recently, her— lover?

"Lover…" She tasted the word, testing it as she lay on her stomach, the linen bed spread was cool to her skin.

Gilgamesh turned from where he stood at a table that held a pitcher of wine. He sipped from one of his jade cups and watched her from afar.

"What was that?" he asked. Arturia looked at him. He had not bothered to put any clothes on after getting up. Strangely, Arturia did not feel ashamed to be lying naked in front of him. He had broken her of that insecurity very early on.

"That word," said Arturia. "Lover. What do you think of it?"

"Do I think that is what we are to each other?" he said, placing his cup on the table. Arturia looked away and twiddled her thumbs, waiting.

"That's a good question, actually," he continued, and approached the bed. "You've made it abundantly clear that you do not love me, right?"

She nodded. He sat down on the bed, reached over, and ran his knuckles down her bare spine. Arturia closed her eyes, reveling in the gentle touch of another. But then Gilgamesh gripped her shoulder and flipped her onto her back. When she moved to cover herself, he took her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Now, I thought I had broken you of that," he said with a devious smile. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your body."

"I'm not," said Arturia. "Just cold."

Gilgamesh's gaze flickered down and he smirked. He knelt over her, his crimson gaze scanning her.

"I can see that." He continued to eye her body. "I must say, my desire to take you only grows." He ran one hand down her cheek. "The noises you make, the way you writhe under my touch." He groaned and leaned down. "I can hardly hold myself back now."

"But you do not love me."

Arturia's words stopped him. He made a strange face, looking at her with a brief expression of— what, anger? Irritation?

Before Arturia could interpret his face, he composed himself and met her eyes with an intense— nothingness.

"No," he said. "I don't."

Neither of them said anything for a long time. He merely hovered over her, staring at her, searching her eyes. His gaze reminded her of blood. She had seen that color all her life, but it often browned with time when left to sit and dry. His eyes was ever vivid, ever red with life, ever hot with lust and passion.

"Then what am I to you?" she asked, challenging him further. His eyes narrowed, as if in thought.

"You are to me as what I am to you," he said. "A means to a release, a relief."

"And that's it?" she said, more than she asked.

"Well you're also a means to an end, the Holy Grail." He leaned down, nearly closing the distance between their faces. "But I did not have to take you to your own bed to obtain it."

Arturia's face went hot, but when he kissed her, she felt relaxed once more. As soon as she released her hands, she reached up, braiding her fingers into his thick hair. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. Gilgamesh moved slower as well, and when he pulled her legs apart, she concluded that their conversation was over.

* * *

_Fuyuki_

Kiritsugu could hear nothing but the soft drumming of his own heart and the scratch of pencil to paper as he worked alone in his hotel room. He thought alone because Maiya lay sleeping in one of the two beds that furnished the room. The other served as a setting for the array of firearms Kiritsugu owned.

Saber's master worked with dead eyes to take down notes of all the Servants and their Masters that he had gathered thus far.

Lancer— It seemed that the damage Kiritsugu had caused his master, that the nobleman's fiancée was now in possession of his Command Seals. But Lancer was loyal to a fault it seemed. Kiritsugu wondered if this arrangement was temporary or not. He had done a great deal of damage to Kayneth Archibald. Either way, even if he did succeed in the embarrassingly simple task of killing Sola-Ui, it would still leave Lancer standing as his mana supply was still coming from Kayneth. Perhaps he would wait before killing the fiancée.

Rider— Kiritsugu wasn't quite sure what to think of him. He was an interesting enigma and an open book at the same time. He had no idea what use his flying Noble Phantasm proved other than that it would be difficult to track him in a tough situation. What irked Kiritsugu the most was how he knew Saber's identity, but not as Arthur, as Arturia. He knew what Kiritsugu's servant deemed to be her best kept secret in her existence, and yet Rider knew by looking at her. They lived in the same time period, if Emiya recalled correctly, but on different sides of the world, with different matters occupying their existence, that is, if Arturia was truly more than a the stuff of legend.

Kiritsugu took a frustrated bite from his burger.

Caster— He was simply insane. Kiritsugu considered him more of a Beserker class than Caster, but he had heard of Servants qualifying for more than one class. More children had gone missing in the past couple of days, five in total. This did not bother him as much as fascinated him. But in the back of his mind, he feared for Ilya.

Assassin— Had they been completely eradicated, or did one survive Rider's attack? If one survived, woud the rest simply regenerate and continue their assault from the shadows? Kiritsugu would have much rather summoned a Servant as efficient as Assassin. He wasn't sure why their Master was using them so foolishly.

Archer….

Kiritsugu's pencil scratched harder against the parchment.

What was his game? What was his motive? He clearly wanted for nothing, certainly not weapons. His Noble Phantasm appeared to be limitless.

But this man clearly knew Saber, and was _very_ familiar with her, too familiar. He seemed to know every little thing there was to know about Arturia Pendragon of Britannia.

It was this point where Kiritsugu had wished he had taken time to read a history book or two. His training with Natalia had occupied his whole life, where sciences and arts may lie in the minds of other beings, his was filled with the science of firearms and the art of killing. So whoever this Archer servant was that was well acquainted with Saber, he had no idea who he was. His armor, his speech patterns gave nothing away, and neither did his arrogance. He kicked himself for not eaves dropping on his and his Servant's private conversation. Not even his wife had overheard any secrets those two Servants might have shared.

He suspected an intimate encounter between the two. Any fool could see that Archer felt something for Saber. Whether those feelings were mutual was beyond his knowledge, given that Arturia herself hardly knew anything of her historical past.

Kiritsugu's impatience finally got the better of him and he set his notes aside, ripped a small piece of paper from his notebook and then wrote, "Went to library. Be back in an hour," and then set it on the pillow next to Maiya.

The Fuyuki Central Library was not the best source for the information he had been looking for, but there was a decent enough web archive. Kiritsugu wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for at this point. So he started with the basics.

He typed the phrase "Arthurian Legends" into the search bar and clicked on "All results".

He groaned upon remembering how many renditions of Arturia's story there were, none of which were extensively helpful. There were so many accounts of the Britannian-Frankish War of William the Bastard and the nameless post-Roman British king who managed to have the record of their existence expunged from historical records, which was probably why so many King Arthur fans and historians inserted his rule to be during this time. None of these theories included a female king.

Another gap in the historical account of this fifth century war was the exceeding odds against Britannia when adding up William's military strength and numbers. Britannia was so…so small.

Kiritsugu scanned the pages with furrowed eyebrows.

They must have received some sort of aid, with the added threat of the Anglo-Saxons approaching.

He leaned his chin into his hand, pondering the gaps. Was this where Archer came in? Did the legend expunge the aid they received in the Britannian-Frankish War in order to create a much more epic story for King Arthur, in turn, tampering with historical records in the process?

He had a feeling that he was looking in the entirely wrong place.

* * *

_Lothian, Scotland_

The eyes of the goddess flew open. Amber and brilliant, they shone as she gained power over a new defenseless mortal. Her full lips parted in a breathy laugh that grew and grew, causing the grass around her to grow tall, wither away, and grow anew multiple times. Morgana stepped out of the way of Ishtar's power, starting to feel the effects of her wiles.

"What do you find so funny, Ishtar?" she asked, arching one eyebrow. The goddess threw her head back and breathed in deep the pollen that wafered around her like a fog. She exhaled towards a nearby tree and flowers bloomed in great multitude upon its bark.

"I love mortals," she purred. "They're so predictable."

She walked over to where the flowers had bloomed and plucked a red one from its nest.

"It feels like our little British king has given up her virtue to the bane of my existence."

"Really?" said Morgana. "That _is_ interesting." She thought for a moment. "She still has a queen, actually. I wonder what brought on this unruly affair."

"Knowing Gilgamesh, probably seduction," said Ishtar plainly. "He works well with his words and his looks."

The flower withered between her slender fingers.

"I now have the power to take what I want from her and give you a child." She looked to Morgana. "But as I told you before, you will be unable to bear a son. Are you prepared to train your daughter up in the ways of a knight in order to infiltrate the Round Table?"

Morgana simply smiled.

"If Arturia can do it, her child can."

* * *

 **A/N:** I. Am. SO SORRY! It's been so long since I've updated and usually I would write chapters in advance to prevent this sort of time gap, but I got caught up in the wonders of college *gag*. Alright. Thanks for sticking with me guys! I appreciate each and every one of you!


	17. The Intruders

_Tohsaka Mansion_

"And nothing of importance happened, Archer? You are in an awfully good mood,"Kirei remarked, watching the golden Servant acting as one in the Tohsaka Mansion, as if it were his own house. Gilgamesh tipped the wineglass back against his lips, exposing his throat as if showing it off to the priest-turned-mage. The Servant had an awfully infectious smile, but Kirei had a strange immunity to that sort of behavior.

"Be it not the Holy Grail that catches my eye," said Gilgamesh. "But instead the golden gleam of another treasure far more precious than any holy chalice of eternal youth."

"Oddly poetic for your taste." Kirei raised an eyebrow. "Did you not once claim this world was fake and ugly?"

"Oh it still is. But I am still interested in the jewel that was and is mine." He glanced at Kirei. "You say I seem gleeful, and yet your shoulders bear none of the intensity that they had previously. I would wager to say you're the one unusually cheerful today."

"My burden has finally been released," the ex-Master said, stroking the back of his hand that once held Command Seals. "And now I can simply observe, as would have been my duty like my father before the Grail chose me."

"I wonder if a new Master could emerge, if the Grail sees fit."

"Mm…"

"Hmm?"

Kerei glared at the King of Heroes with narrow dead eyes. The wine, red like blood that matched the Servants eyes were warm in the mood lighting of this lounge in which they sat.

"What is it?" Gilgamesh prompted.

"Who is she?" he asked. "I am no longer in competition for the Grail. What do you risk in unburdening your personal quarrels with a simple priest?"

Gilgamesh raised a pale eyebrow.

"You think me a fool?"

"No."

Gilgamesh shrugged, leaned his head back, and began to delve into the legend lost in time.

"Surely you're familiar with the legends of King Arthur…"

* * *

_Camelot_

Hot ribbons of orange and yellow danced and crackled in the high stone hearth, spreading warmth throughout the Great Hall. Few knights sat at the Round Table that day, Bedivere, Agravain, Lancelot, and Gawain, those the king trusted most. But aside from the whispering flames, the hall was quiet. Different pairs of eyes flickered between one another, waiting, watching. Bedivere stood the stillest and quietest of all, not at the table, but in front of the fire, embracing the kind heat.

"There are many sources we can consult about our endeavor," said Sir Agravain. "The faye in the woods, the monks in their monasteries." He glanced briefly at the Knight of the Lake. "Perhaps Vivian may hold some knowledge of value."

Lancelot met Agravain's eyes, but did not seem irked by this suggestion. In fact, he seemed impressed.

"You may very well be right," he contemplated, leaning forward. "I can go to her. It has been far too long at any rate."

"I will go to the faye," said Sir Gawain. "I can bring my wife and brothers to better cover the land, as there are many clans. I feel Bedivere may best serve searching out the monasteries, he with the greatest virtue of us all."

Sir Bedivere did not stir from his place by the fire.

Arturia watched her knights discuss among themselves, strategizing and planning. She was proud of them, and felt less burdened than the last time they gathered at the table. The stiffness was gone from her shoulders, replaced by a dull ache between her thighs that faded as the day went on. She imagined it would be renewed soon as Gilgamesh's departure drew closer and closer. A strange pang in her chest came and went as the thought crossed her mind.

"I have faith that something will be discovered if we are diligent," she said, leaning over the table to gaze at the map carved into its center. "King Gilgamesh will be taking his troops back to Babylon soon, and he trusts us to move as soon as our resources will allow us."

In the silent hall, every shift and low grumble was like a loud echo in the king's ears.

"If there is any remaining contempt among you concerning this quest that ensured our country's survival, I would rather hear sharp words than hesitant moans and murmurs." She continued before the silence drew on too long. "Do you all believe I am content with giving away such a holy relic? No, I am not. But this contract ensured Britannia would live to fight another day and other days to come."

She sighed and looked to Lancelot, who, for the first time in a long time, gave her a look of sympathy and compassion, the look of a friend. She had missed that from him.

"You all may have a few days to prepare for your individual quests. We will divide the knights of the Table accordingly for each destination. I will meditate on what to do next. You are all dismissed."

She was the first to exit the room, followed shortly after by Lancelot who met her pace.

"I know this is the best decision for our people," he said as they made their way down the corridor. "It was just hard to see when everything looked bleak from afar."

Arturia looked up to her greatest knight, somewhat perplexed by his mild temperament. He seemed in much better spirits since Williame had been defeated.

"I thank you for your understanding," she said.

"I wonder if God has found enough favor in us to allow our quest to not go unfruitful."

"We can only pray and see if He does."

The two walked in a pleasant silence before they reached the courtyard, where the squires awaited the knights with their horses, preparing them for their ride home. Off to the side, Gilgamesh's caravan was also being prepared for their eventual departure. Arturia frowned at the display, but not for its appearance, but for what it indicated. On the contrary, the bright reds and golds that Gilgamesh favored on his displays of riches brought a rather beautiful sight in contrast to the western architecture and duller colors.

"I pray your Queen is on the full recovery from her ordeal," Lancelot said to Arturia. At him saying this, it suddenly occurred to her she had not seen Guinevere in a rather long time.

"I'll be sure to pass along your prayers," she replied as her knight mounted his horse. He did not wait for the other knights to catch up with them. Lancelot gave a fleeting glance to his king, a pang of— something, in his eyes, and then rode off into the late afternoon. One by one, the rest of Arturia's knights made their way to their homes, leaving her to stand in the muddy courtyard, with nothing else to look at but the bright wagons that held the Babylonian king's belongings and treasures. She suspected he might be at the camps, instructing his generals on rounding up the troops.

Eventually, she retreated into the proud stone halls of her Camelot, her home, and walked the corridors for as long as she could before she finally reached her own chambers. She enjoyed the silence, not paying attention to much other than the sound of her own footsteps, uncomfortably free from her armor. Her armor was like a second skin to her, another layer from the secret she kept from her entire people. The loose robes she wore now felt more of a disguise than the form fitting layers of hard, polished iron.

She had not noticed the chip in the wooden door when she opened it, neither did she catch the corner of the rug that had been turned up from someone hastily entering. It was only when a strong arm wrapped around her throat from behind that she awoke from her inner thoughts and tried to scream. Excalibur sat in its display on the other side of the room, away from her fingers. As her vision dimmed, Arturia struck her elbow into her attacker's gut, sending him slamming into the door. She wrenched herself from his grip and stumbled towards her beloved sword, only to have a second intruder tackle her onto floor, pressing her face into the cold stone. There was a blinding whiteness in front of her eyes as her nose audibly crunched. She only barely looked up to see the familiar bright colors upon the men's Babylonian garb. While one held her down, the other knelt behind her and hiked up her robes. She tasted blood.

"No!" she snarled, throwing the men off her. She pinned one of them underneath her, gripped tightly on to his head and brutally wrenched it to the side with a sickening crack. He went limp, red droplets raining down from Arturia's nose onto the back of his tan neck. She only had a fraction of a second to turn before the second man grabbed her by her hair and slammed her into the corner of her bed. Her vision went white again, and she cried out when attacker pinned her against the side of the bed and thrust something sharp up between her legs, a pain that shocked her more than it hurt, but nonetheless, the sting was harsh and lasting.

_No!_

As the light returned to her eyes, she found the man's eye sockets with two fingers and then felt hot blood pour down her hand, dripping to her wrists like little red bracelets. She gripped into his sockets and threw him down onto the floor, and a strange looking blade falling from his grip, spinning away. She climbed over her assaulter and, with her hands braided tightly into his hair, bashed his face into the stone until he stopped moving. Blood and other bodily fluids filled in the cracks of the stone and stained the rug.

The door to her chambers opened and she immediately went for her sword. But when she whirled around with blade in hand, she halted, still shaking from a berserk-like energy that rushed through her veins. Gilgamesh stood in the doorway for a fraction of a second before entering and shutting the door behind him.

"Arturia, put down the sword," he prompted. "Calm down I'm here."

"What is the meaning of this!?" she hissed, a spew of red spraying in the direction she pointed her sword. " _What is the meaning of this!_ _"_

Gilgamesh looked just as surprised as she, albeit less deranged. He looked down at the carnage and then back up at her, and then scanned down her body as his expression turned from shock to horror.

"By the gods, Arturia," he breathed out, and started to approach her.

"Stay away from me!" her voice was shrill and hoarse, her body trembling. "They knew, Gilgamesh! _How did they know_!"

Gilgamesh's face transitioned from horror to confusion, and then back again as he made the connection.

"I—I don't know," he said quietly. "Arturia, please believe me, I did not set these men on you. By all the gods I swear."

"The gods mean nothing to you!"

"They mean everything when they've had a hand in gambling with your life!"

Arturia gasped and she lowered her sword just a bit. Gilgamesh's head snapped to the door and the color drained from his face.

"Someone's coming," he murmured. "Put more blood on your clothes to disguise your—your wound."

A pained expression crossed his face. As quickly as he spoke, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Then, Arturia could hear the hall fill with his booming voice, angry. It was only then that his words registered in her ears. As he yelled outside, Arturia hastily took the blood flowing from her nose and smeared it on her chest, then scrambled to the bodies and spread their blood on her clothes, disguising the red seeping through the robes between her legs. Questions screamed and echoed in her mind, and her numb shock quickly turned to the bitter realization of what had just happened.

"Your king was just attacked in his own bedchambers! Why was no one standing guard!" There were a few murmurs before Gilgamesh raised his voice again. "And you! Go fetch my generals! Those were Babylonian men in there and I wan to know who sent them and why…NOW!"

By the time Arturia emerged from her room, Gilgamesh was giving more orders to send for Sir Lancelot.

"Do as he says," she commanded with heavy breath. At the sight of their king, the guards immediately obeyed and hurried away. Gilgamesh turned back to her, a panicked look in his eyes.

"Ar—thur," he said, approaching her. "Who do you call to tend to your—wounds?"

"Merlin," she breathed. "Call for Merlin. He knows."

Gilgamesh then placed one of Arturia's arms over hiss boulder and helped her back into her chambers, but then set her down at the table away from the bloody scene. He knelt in front of her as she sat and gingerly took her face in his hands.

"When I find out who ordered this—" he said, tilting her head to the side. "My god, what did they do to you?"

He brushed her hair aside to examine where her head had struck the bed frame.

"They knew," she muttered, her vision periodically going fuzzy. "And they immediately tried to strip me. One stuck a blade inside me…" She winced. "…a strange…blade…"

Gilgamesh's horrified expression deepened and he looked down to her legs.

"They what?"

Arturia's face contorted with the pain that lingered, but strained to look over at the bodies.

"Over there," she said, and started to rise.

"No," Gilgamesh said, pushing her back down. "You're not allowed to move. I'll get it."

He stood to retrieve the blade, but came up empty.

"There's nothing here," he said. "They were unarmed."

Arturia abruptly stood. "Where—"

"Sit down, dammit!" Gilgamesh snapped at her. "I swear I will tie you to that chair!"

Arturia then felt dizzy, too tired to argue, but then begrudgingly submitted to his command.

"They had a dagger," she breathed. "They—he—" She clutched at her throbbing head. "Why would they attack me in that manner?"

Gilgamesh stood over the bodies, inspecting every inch of them.

"These aren't my men," he said slowly.

"What?"

"Their armor is not that of my army. These are older. They belonged to kingdoms that I conquered long ago. No one but that city wears this fashion."

Arturia squeezed her legs together, like biting down on a toothache, stunned, confused, and angry. She would want answers, or she would have heads.

* * *

 **A/N:** Again, I'm sorry. I really miss writing consistent chapters for this story cause it's one of my prides and joys as a writer. College is a bitch. Ironic as I'm a Creative Writing major. Ah well. Thank you guys for sticking with me.


	18. Miracle of Life

_Fuyuki, Japan_

Arturia didn't even need to pay attention to the road. Despite the long time gap, the steering wheel felt as natural as a horse's reins. If fact, it reminded her of a full gallop into battle, only the wheels of the Mercedes-Benz shot her body forward at speeds she could only achieve in her dreams. The vehicle had no blood or soul, and yet it seemed alive as she urged it on with her right foot. It roared louder, sped up. By ancient logic of her time, it should have been alive. But no, she needed not pay attention, which was quite fortunate because her mind was most definitely in another time.

"Saber?"

Had she really been intimate with Archer? She remembered all the details. Everywhere his lips had been, where his fingers had trailed. Her skin felt hot at the memories of his weight on her, hand braided into her hair, the fullness between her legs.

"Saber stop!" Irisviel's sharp voice brought her out of her reverie.

Suede sole collided with the brake pedal, sending the two women lurching forward as they halted behind another car. Irisviel did her best to readjust her disheveled silver hair and turned to Arturia.

"Saber what's gotten into you? You've never been this distracted?"

"I've always been distracted when riding," she says quietly, absentmindedly. "I'm sorry, Irisviel."

The homunculus gave a look of pity to the Servant, and stifled a giggle.

"Oh Saber," she said. "I am sorry of the things on your mind, but up until now, you'd been driving like a professional. I was contemplating buying a tank or bomber and winning the Grail like that."

Arturia could not laugh with her.

"Nothing can beat my sword."

Irisviel's smile dropped.

"Yes, that is probably why Archer fled quickly after you emerged from your..." She paused, searching for the right word. "... episode."

Arturia grunted and hit her closed fist against the steering wheel, jumping as it screamed at her. Right, the horn. She gave another groan and took her foot off the brakes and continued their journey.

They had entered Miyama, on route to their new headquarters. It was quickly determined, upon examining the collateral from the castle invasion, that something so obvious would not make a good place to lay low and plot. They arrived in front of an older looking Japanese building. Its architecture, while native, seemed rare, taking up more space than was usually constructed for these traditional structures. It gave Arturia an odd feeling of desolation, abandonment.

"Henceforth, this is your headquarters," said Maiya, stepping out of the truck that had Arturia had nearly rear ended earlier. She held out a set of keys towards Irisviel.

"Ah...just give them to Saber."

"Understood."

Arturia took the keys, glancing askance at Irisviel, and then down at the ring. There were quite a few keys. She wondered if they went to every door in the house before remembering the traditional style didn't typically have too many inside doors. She took note of an older, rustier looking one.

"What is this one for?" she asked, pointing it out the to stern assistant.

"Storehouse in the courtyard. Looks old but it works just fine." She turned to Irisviel. "I apologize, miss, but as we only purchased this house a few days ago, it hasn't been properly prepared, cleaned or furnished. We can take you back to the hotel if you would like."

"As long as it stops the wind and rain, I'll be fine," said Irisviel. Maiya nodded, and declared her leave before returning to her truck.

* * *

_Camelot_

Arturia had found she healed quickly, thanks to Merlin's craft. She was irked from having been robbed of any more chances to find her release within Gilgmaesh's skillful hands, for he would be departing soon enough, along with his army. She ran her own hands up her arms in remembrance of the precious few times she'd had him in her bed, or her in his. Her fingers traced a path across her throat and into her hair, one Gilgamesh had often taken before.

She made a face when Merlin handed her a tonic that would aid in the remainder of her healing. The best of his work usually tasted the worst, but that was the price for his wisdom.

"Thank you," she said, after downing the foul smelling substance as quickly as she could. Merlin's expression remained as stone. He had been this way since he had been brought to the king's aid.

"If you have something to say, say it," Arturia said lowly. The wizard glanced over at her from where he sat amongst a table of elixirs and tonics, spell books and alchemy manuals.

"The injury to your womanhood is of…dark quality." He seemed to taste those words, unsure of them.

"Dark quality?" Arturia repeated, trying to understand.

"Whatever weapon injured you— and somehow disappeared from the scene…this is clearly the work of someone with power." Merlin began to pack his belongings. "I would suspect a faye before anything simply because they are in abundance.

"I suppose," Arturia mumbled, shifting in her seat. "There have been attempts on my life before though."

"This wasn't an attempt on your life. This was something else. They wanted something from you, and they knew they were able to obtain it from you, because they knew your secret." Merlin shook his head in frustration. Arturia sensed that he had known this before. What was now bothering him was something different. "What perplexes me is why they chose now of all times to attack you."

"Resources, personal timing," Arturia sighed. "Who knows…my concern is what they plan to do with my blood."

Merlin sighed as well.

"I don't know of any spells, from mage craft or faye lore, that requires the blood of virgin woman royalty _from_ her womanhood."

Arturia did not correct him.

* * *

_Lothian, Scotland_

A beautiful Arabian dagger sat between Ishtar and Morgana, a grand smile stretched across the goddess' full lips.

"And this came from her?" said Morgana, eying the dried blood that tinted the elaborately crafted blade.

"Straight from the king's cradle of life," Ishtar cooed. "Two men died to retrieve this. Though they were hardly relevant, but I can only do so much to transport this dagger to and fro."

"Your powers are a curious thing," said Morgana.

"My powers are great, but under the watch of the other gods." Ishtar briefly pressed her lips together. "Were it not for them, I would have gone there myself." She picked up the dagger and rose to her feet.

"Now, lie on the bed and lift your skirts. This will hurt, but it will give you what you desire."

Morgana scoffed.

"I've birthed three sons before this. I do not fear pain."

She did not hesitate to move to the bed. Though she laid her head back and watched the ceiling, she could sense the goddess draw nearer. Her womanhood felt full and warm, as if ready to receive her husband. Traces of bright light danced around the room as Ishtar ran two fingers down the dagger, bleeding gold onto the mortal blood.

Instead of the pain of the blade between herself, Morgana felt a blinding surge of overwhelming pleasure that quickly became too much. Her ears rang and her vision went white. Then there was nothing but a dull ache, the breathy laugh of a goddess, and the familiar wailing of an infant.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for such a short chapter. I just got out for summer break and felt so bad for keeping you all waiting. I'm going to try and be more consistent with the more time I have. I have other writing obligations I have too, but I do really love this story so I'm going to do my best. I appreciate the continuous support and loyalty to this story. It means a whole lot to me :)


	19. Stormy Waters

_Coast of Britannia_

"I will be sending Hadad's falcon for progress reports." Gilgamesh gripped the side of the ship. "I trust— I trust you will be honest in your findings."

"A deal is a deal," said Arturia. "I will not go back on my word."

The two shared a long silence, broken only by the whispering waves.

"Ready to set sail," said General Ishkibal.

"Then do it," said Gilgamesh, all of the while not taking his eyes of Arturia's. She did the same, her gaze steady upon him, even while the ship rocked.

The sails were lowered and the boats pushed off the shore. Arturia waited with her company until the Babylonians had disappeared from the bay.

The knights did not question their king's sudden isolation within his chambers. They assumed he may simply be recovering more from the assassination attempt. Lancelot was the only one to attend her.  
"You are melancholy," he said, furrowing his dark brow. "Do you now regret promising the Babylonian the grail?"

Arturia sat at a table inside her chamber, tapping an empty quill on the side of the ink well.  
"I am anxious," she corrected him; her face twisted into a grimace. "There is only so much our sources can accomplish in this quest for such a holy relic."

Lancelot approached his king, leaning over her shoulder to look at the papers scattered about her desk.  
"Who do you plan to write to?" he asked.  
"More of record keeping," she replied. "Gilgamesh requests regular progress reports whenever Hadad's messenger falcon reaches our shores."  
"Arturia, the journey's not yet begun."  
She was quiet at this. Lancelot leaned over and looked her in the eyes. Arturia saw a gripping sincerity, one she'd not seen in a long time.  
"My friend, what truly troubles you?"

More silence, but Arturia's shoulders drooped in defeat, altering the shadows that danced against her robes from the dim candlelight. She continued to tap the empty quill until it hit the ink well just a little to hard, splashing a black blotch onto her pale fingers, seeping into the crevices of her pink nails. She sighed and stood to fetch a rag.  
"I'm concerned about who has my blood and what they plan to do with it," she finally answered, her back to Lancelot; she wiped her hand with a rag from the wash basin. "I've only seen peeks of what Merlin is capable of, and he exercises great caution in his arts. I fear I may simply drop dead from some curse someone has placed from miles away." She looked down at her fingers, stained purple. "The best kind of assassin is one who was never at the scene of the murder to begin with."

Lancelot observed her carefully, watching her steps as she dragged her feet to the wash basin. He sensed there was more than her anxiety for her own life, which must have been something heavy, considering.

"You never— elaborated, on what those men did to you," he said hesitantly. Arturia winced, setting the rag down with a quick snap of cloth against wood.

"I fear you would not _want_ to know the details of that encounter," she mumbled.

"But I do. Your queen worries as well. She wishes you would confide in her more, as she said, 'Like you used to do'." He shifted his stance, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "She misses you," he said quietly.  
Arturia took in a deep breath, "I know. I will go to her." She paused. "The men, once they had managed to wrestle me down, pierced me with a— ritualistic looking dagger." Her gaze met his briefly before flickering away. "Either they were trying to castrate me, or they knew what they were aiming for."  
Lancelot's eyes went wide.  
"They knew?"

She nodded.

"By God, that means anyone could."

"It means whoever sent them to attack me knows and for some reason has not taken advantage of that information."

Lancelot paused to ponder that thought. She was right. Why had the rumors not made their way here? Had they ceased upon the would-be-assassins' death? It couldn't be. There had to be someone higher up who gave them specific instructions.

"Where is this dagger now?"

"Into thin air, I'm afraid." Arturia settled back into her chair.

He thought again.

"Perhaps I will see Vivian about this dagger. She's a creature of holy blades, with equal knowledge of unholy ones. Maybe she will have some answers."  
Arturia nodded and ran a hand through her hair, leaving thread-thin black streaks from the access ink.

"Do what you will, friend," she said. "It does not go unseen by these thankful eyes."

They shared a warm grin between the two of them, a feeling of familiarity starting to return. The feeling of facade still lingered in the air, and Lancelot was unsure if it were from her, or his own deceit.

* * *

_Mion River_

The fog was thick and dark, turning Fuyuki's lights into a blend of what looked like watercolors and gradient in the pale light of the waning moon. Lancer, under the authority of his new Master, Sola-Ui, fiancée to the otherwise incapacitated Kayneth Archibald, observed the river in its misty blanket. But the mist did little to obscure his eyes from Caster, who dwelt out in the middle of the river, bobbing up and down on the surface of the water. It disturbed Lancer.

With the ceasefire declared in order to direct everyone's attention onto Caster and his Master, this set up seemed too easy.

"If we are to bring him down, this would be the best chance, right?" said Sola.

"It would be wise to kill him before he achieves his aim, whatever that may be." Lancer readjusted his grip upon his red spear. In awe, Sola ran her fingers across her skin where the Command Seals now were, bold and bright against her white complexion. She was excited about this, which also disturbed Lancer.

* * *

_-Three day's travel from Babylon-_

_"_ _I had another horrible- horrible dream._ _"_ _Enkidu_ _'_ _s voice was wracked with illness. He no longer sounded like himself._ _"_ _My friend, please don_ _'_ _t leave again until I die. I think I_ _'_ _m going to die soon._ _"_

_Gilgamesh sat at Enkidu_ _'_ _s bedside, clutching his hands. They had been degrading over the past few days. For twelve days, Enkidu had lay in this bed, writhing in pain as his very body turned to clay. He had spent his time cursing all of those who taught him how wonderful this world was just for him to leave it in the end._

_"_ _I_ _'_ _m not going to leave,_ _"_ _said Gilgamesh, trying to contain his sorrow._ _"_ _I will never leave._ _"_

_Enkidu laid his head back, though it did little to add comfort to his agony. He told Gilgamesh of his dream and how he journeyed to the underworld and met the kings and queens of old. They lived in eternal darkness and ate the earth instead of food._

_"_ _They asked me who led me there,_ _"_ _he said, a look of nostalgia and pain upon his face._ _"_ _I told them Ishtar._ _"_ _He coughed, dirt crumbling from his face._ _"_ _Gilgamesh, why could I have not died in battle? I would have been blessed from such a glorious death._ _"_

_"_ _You do not deserve a death such as this, my friend,_ _"_ _said Gilgamesh._ _"_ _You deserve to sit among the greatest warriors, on a throne of heroes. Not this..._ _"_ _His head dipped in exhaustion and sorrow._ _"_ _Not like this..._ _"_

_"_ _I wonder-_ _"_ _Enkidu continued to cough._ _"_ _I wonder what sort of high seat I would have been placed on had you_ _'_ _d killed me in our first battle together._ _"_

_A pitiful chuckle came from Gilgamesh_ _'_ _s lips._

_"_ _Not even the god of war could look down on you from his seat, Enkidu._ _"_

_Enkidu smiled with what was left of his lips and then reached up to place his hand on Gilgamesh_ _'_ _s cheek._

_"_ _You may not believe me now,_ _"_ _he rasped._ _"_ _But I promise you, there will come a day when your equal will come again._ _"_ _Gilgamesh scoffed._ _Enkidu could never be replaced. No one else like him existed in this world. He was sure of it_.

_"_ _No, listen," Enkidu clung to him. "With my dying breaths, I bless you, my greatest friend. You will not wander forever. You will not be undone by grief. You will survive and you will thrive to curse the gods with every breath you take in and send out. And you will not be alone._ _"_

_Tears welled in Gilgamesh_ _'_ _s eyes as he watched his friend_ _'_ _s skin start to crumble off. Enkidu struggled through the pain to speak his blessing, and as he finished, Gilgamesh leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. His tears soaked into the soil of his flesh, and as the morning sun rose, Enkidu_ _'_ _s once shining eyes closed and with his last breath, crumbled into clay on the bed._

Gilgamesh did not wake with a start. He wept into consciousness, rocked by the motion of the ship. His face was buried into the pillow. The warmth of the cabin spread a sheen of sweat across his rigid body. His muscles ached as he clenched the blanket around him. There was no image of Enkidu to torment him this time; there were only the sounds of nighttime guards making their way around the deck. He was already at the brink of madness from his nightmares, from reliving every agonizing second of his friend's death. The insufferable visions had gone away for a short time in Camelot, shortly, while he directed his attention to Arturia and her body. But how, he once again trembled at the thought of dying, desperate to avoid it at any cost. He thought of the Herb of Life and how he had been so close before the damned serpent devoured it and disappeared as if by sorcery. The new hope of the Holy Grail was his only comfort, the only thing that eased his heartache, that calmed his tears, that soothed him back into a restless slumber. They still had a long way to travel.

* * *

_Mion River_

A ways away from the river, Saber pressed her shoe down onto the gas pedal, urging the Mercedes on faster, down the streets of Miyama town, turning its twists and curves with ease. She could have been summoned a Rider easy. But Class was the last thing on her mind as she led the vehicle off the road and onto the riverside path, engaging the brake and emergency break at once. The car's silver body spun three-fourths of a complete donut, and then the wing door swung open as it stopped, its driver leaping into action with impatience in her step. She sneered to herself at Caster's attempt to conceal himself within the dark fog. Of course, mortal eyes could not penetrate the fuzzy illusion, but she was no mortal, not anymore. Irisviel gracefully exited from the passenger's seat and looked out onto the river, not needing her eyes to sense the dark magecraft on the surface of those waters.

"Just as I thought," she said. "It's Caster."

As if Caster had heard her, a burst of tangible mana sprang forth from the grimoire in his long grey hands. There was no more powerful a Noble Phantasm in the hands of such a lunatic.

"Welcome, my Holy Maiden!" he hollered out to the shores. "It is most delightful to see you again!" He bowed, and Saber suppressed a gag.

"You heathen!" she roared back. "What madness do you intend this night, you heretic!"

"I'm very sorry, Jeanne. The guest of honor this evening is not you, my sweet." His voice, before cheery and almost kind, twisted into a chilling mad laugh, displaying the twisted insanity within him. "In spite of that, to be honored by your presence does bring me so much joy. Please enjoy this banquet of death and degeneration, of which your unworthy Gille de Rais has prepared!"

The dark surface of the waters began to shake beneath his fee, and it was then that Saber realized. It was not water that held him aloft.

* * *

N/A: -sigh- I have no words. I'm trying guys. I'm trying. I miss writing this story. Happy Holidays at any rate!


	20. A Silence that Speaks Thunder

**Fuyuki River**

Before Saber's bright and mortified eyes the dark and wriggling tendrils held Caster above the water like a twisted Christ-like image. It made her sick, not out of disgust for the creatures, but for such sacrilegious images, this heathen conjured. Slowly, but then faster and faster, the number of demonic creatures began to grow, filling the space around Caster like an overcrowded room. He cackled, raising his arms above his head, the horrific tome still clutched open in one grotesquely colored hand.

"Now, we will wave the flag of salvation once again!" He cried to the heavens. "It is good that that the abandoned have gathered, and great that the condemned have gathered as well." He upturned his face to the dark clouds. "I am the leader! I am the commander! Resentment towards us, the oppressed ones, must surely have reached even God!" Lord of the heavens, I welcome this condemnation and offer up my body!"

As he spoke those last words, the creatures shot upwards, raising as well as engulfing caster in their wriggling mass. Saber could do nothing but stare in shock as she realized Caster was being absorbed! Was this the true nature of Prelati's Spellbook? It seemed inexhaustible. The tentacles tangled and intertwined, fusing together to become whole. Many became one glittering, filthy, nauseating swell of mucus and meat, shining dark colors that reminded Saber of poison and sin. She could still hear his heretic speech, no less staunched by the wall of filth around him.

"Oh you proud God! Oh you cruel God! We'll drag you down from your heavenly seat!"

Saber held her breath, if not to keep from gagging from the sheer dread this creature stirred in her gut. She reached out to touch Irisviel's mind momentarily to anchor herself. She noticed that the woman was alone on the riverbank, which was fortunate. There was no telling who all was gathering at the docks to see this creature that was no longer concealed by heavy fog.

A crackle of thunder sounded, but it came from behind Saber, not above. She turned to see the familiar shining chariot materialize from the peals of lightning.

"Yo, King of Knights!" Rider bellowed with an insolent smile. "What a fine night, is what I wanted to say, but this is not the time for petty greetings."

"Incorrigible as ever," Saber spat. "If you come here for jokes than begone."

Rider clicked his tongue, "C'mon Saber. Tonight's the only truce we have. I can't kill anything in peace if that horrible monstrosity is left to its devices. I've been calling the other Servants. Lancer should have caught up to us by now."

"The others?"

"Well, given I squashed Assassin to death beneath my boot, and Berserker is out of the question entirely..." Arturia was not about to argue with that. "...as for Archer, calling him would be senseless unless he came of his own accord. Proud one he is." He grinned. "Perhaps you could coax him down from the high heavens."

Saber nodded and then turned to Irisviel for orders. Irisviel thought briefly.

"We must defeat him swiftly, for his spellbook, now buried within that monster's husk, is providing him with unlimited mana. The only thing we can do is drag him out."

As she spoke, a street lamp flickered, and the silhouette of two lances came into view before their owner did. Lancer assembled with the other two Masters. Saber curtly greeted him before getting to the point.

"Lancer, you can hit Caster's Noble Phantasm from the river by hurling the lance?" Saber suggested. Lancer's laugh answered her question.

"If he were an only mere spectacle, perhaps. Are you trying to make us Lancer-Heroic Spirits seem meek, Saber?"

She ignored him.

"So Rider and I will attack from the front."  
It was Rider's turn to laugh.  
"My chariot does not need a road, but how do you plan to fight in the river, little girl?"

Saber's eyes narrowed, followed by a rare but confident grin that caught the two male Spirits off guard.

"I have divine protection from the lady of the lake," she said, digging her heels into the dirt before take off. "No watery body can stop my advance."

Her swift stride across the water seemed to cleanse the previous heathen image of Caster's buoyant form with her own. She ran as if on hard land. Rider turned to Lancer and laughed again.

"That is something quite rare," he said. "If only she would join my ranks of men."

* * *

**Camelot**

_His skin was heated, flush against her own. He made little noise apart from his own heavy firm hand placed over her mouth, muffling the sounds she made, not of protest but of pleasure. Her thighs tightened around his hips, rocking her body with him. His arm pressed down for support, while hers wrapped tightly around him, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades. Her eyes squeezed shut as the heat built up inside her. She stiffened, waiting for the height of their sin, the part that made it so impossible to resist, and yet so impossible for which to ask forgiveness._

_She took the Lord's name in the vainest of ways for the brief moment his hand removed from her swollen lips, only to be replaced with his own. He moved with her quickening breath, a harmony with his groans, a bass to her melody. When she climaxed, he gave in to her ecstasy, burying his face into the curve of her pale neck. His teeth found her collarbone, and he drew one final sound from her before his own moans overtook the air between them. He came up to look at her, and swam in her sea-color eyes, stark against the pink of her face. He scraped his teeth across his bottom lip before tearing his gaze from her, falling beside her on the bed._

Arturia's eyes flickered open as she awoke, alone. Sweat dampened her brow and collected in the dip in her throat. She took a deep breath, her fingers aimlessly groping across the large bed almost as if she was searching for nothing but emptiness reached back, save the fur and damp linens. She tossed the furs to the floor to welcome the cool air. She was unsure what time of night it was when she rose from bed, but it was late. She slipped on a thick long robe, ignoring the cold sting on her feet as she padded off the rug and onto cold stone floor.

Camelot was asleep. The halls were quiet, save for the slap of Arturia's feet against the floor as she made her way to another chamber. A chamber she'd not found herself within in a very long time. The heavy wooden door did not open silently, as it had always been. It creaked with hinges oiled just barely enough for them to function.

And yet the queen did not stir from her slumber. Arturia approached her wife and placed a gentle hand on her back. She was sleeping on her stomach, her chestnut colored hair fanned out in messy waves, obscuring her face, save for her little nose. Arturia pressed lightly on her back.

"Guinevere…"

She stirred a bit.

"My queen."

One dark eye fluttered open lazily and then closed again, shifting in her slumber. Arturia knelt down and brushed the soft waves of hair from her face.

"Guinevere," she whispered, shaking her lightly. This time, the queen woke. She looked surprised, even in her fatigue.

"My king…" she mumbled, rubbing her eye. "What's wrong?"

Arturia reached for Guinevere's hand, taking it in her own. They were almost the same size. It reminded her more than ever the lie she lived for her people, at her queen's expense.

"Nothing is wrong," she said, looking her wife in the eyes. "I…just wanted to see you."

"What time of the night is it?" she yawned, sitting up on her elbows to look out the window.

"I know not." Arturia shook her head. "I didn't look to see the moon. It may be too cloudy."

Guinevere looked back at Arturia and her thin brow furrowed.

"Why do you come to call so late?" she asked. "You haven't been in here in years."

Arturia felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm lonely."

The queen's gaze, soft and confused, stuck on Arturia, as if studying her for lies or a test.

"Why?" she asked. This time, Arturia appeared confused.

"'Why?'"

"Why are you lonely? You're never lonely. Your solitude has been your company since before we married."

Guinevere's words weren't meant to hurt Arturia but she couldn't help but wince in regret. Arturia looked down, very lightly squeezingl Guinevere's hand. Lonely and guilty. She couldn't hide it. Guinevere frowned and then pulled Arturia towards the bed.

"Come lay down."

She did not protest, sliding into bed, but not before Guinevere sat up to push the robe off her king's shoulders.

"Don't hide from me," she said, pulling Arturia close under the covers. "You never used to hide from me."

Arturia said nothing, only watching closely every little movement of her wife as she situated further onto the bed to make room. Where she'd been asleep was warm, as was she. This familiar warmth, softer, gentler than her previous intimate companion. Gilgamesh had been firm, strong. The touch of a woman was different, not that Arturia expected anything of Guinevere that could walk the path she and Gilgamesh had taken. Even in the cloudy moonlight, Arturia could still make out the earth colored eyes of the woman before her. Guinevere just watched her, running her hands up and down her arms.

"Turn around."

Arturia did so and Guinevere rubbed her back. Silence hovered in the air until Artuia snatched it with a hushed voice.

"Why are you being so kind?" she said. "I've been so absent to you."

Guinevere did not answer right away. Arturia closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of her queen's long fingertips smoothing down the goosebumps that speckled her back. She warmed under her touch.

"I..." Guinevere started slowly. "...you are my king."

Arturia reached around and gently grabbed her queen's hand.

"No," she said firmly and turned back around. "Forget the crown, forget the protocol. Strip all high mighty titles and rules and regulations." Arturia looked into her eyes. "How do you feel right now?"

Guinevere's thin brow furrowed in concern. "I don't understand."  
"Guinevere, you are a woman before you are a queen, please answer me and don't make me have to guess."  
There fell a silence between them that reminded Arturia of a lake, frozen over in the dead of winter. But not for its harsh chill. For the silent calm it brought the ears and eyes, with nothing but gently falling snow to stir the picturesque moment.

"I still love you," Guinevere finally said; it sounded as if she were choosing her words carefully. "Though I must confess, I know not to what degree or intensity this love persists. We were once great friends, Arturia. Perhaps once we..."

Arturia looked at her quizzically.  
"Perhaps what?"  
Guinevere shook her head.

"Perhaps we can restore that somehow."

Arturia was not sure when she fell asleep, but it had been more surprising that she'd managed to do so than when she woke up in Guinevere's embrace. She hugged on Arturia's arm like she used to do during the first year of their marriage. It was before Arturia's late nights of war logistics and the kingdom's defense drew her further and further away from their marriage bed. Arturia decided not to stir and nestled closer to Guinevere, the girl who once kept closer council than Lancelot himself.

* * *

**Fuyuki River**

Archer looked down on the horrid scene, safely seated upon his flying golden arc, a divine secret treasure from Bablyon to India.

"Although these are curs, they are at least famous warriors," he said, more to himself that Tousaka Tokiomi who stood at the edge of the arc. "I never thought they would form an alliance to finish that monster." He looked down at the little blue figure that was Saber, cutting her way through the outer perimeters of tentacles. "And yet what a site it is."

"My king," said Tousaka. "That monster is an evil creature laying waste to your garden, a sinner such as him deserves death no matter the means."

"I understand that," Archer snapped. "But that would be the work of a gardener." He tilted his head as he watched Saber. "Though my lioness has always been one to stoop to strange levels for the sake of a good cause. So noble."

"But...as you can see, they won't be able to hold much longer." He paused, clearly trying to appease to Gilgamesh's ego. "This is a great opportunity to display the majesty of a true hero. Please, give the command."

Archer narrowed his eyes at Tokiomi, a look of displeasure on his face. He casually swung his right hand and four swords and lances appeared in the air through brilliant gold portals. Another lazy swing of his hand and the Noble Phantasms roared from the skies, impaling the mountain of meat below. Saber and Rider reacted, jumping in surprise from the attack from above. Saber looked up to him and he couldn't help but grin. But his grin faded as Caster's laugh echoed from within the monster.

"I will not waste any more of my Noble Phantasms on that filthy thing," Archer snapped, his crimson eyes flared with revulsion.

"Wait, please, King of Heroes."

"I have used four already for your sake. I do not wish to retrieve them after they've been defiled by that filth. Do not take my leniency so cheaply." He looked towards Saber. "Besides, there is another, less guttural creature that may deserve my attention should the chance arise, and I need not be distracted by that lump of shit to do so."

Tokiomi looked deeply distressed by this, but Gilgamesh cared little. He was waiting. The mad dog had not shown just yet, but he was sure to appear, and he was sure to attack Saber like before, and Gilgamesh would not allow that to happen. Tokiomi thought Archer was the only one who would be able to defeat Caster's demonic creation, but that was not true. Gilgamesh looked down at Saber, fighting valiantly against the swarm of mucus-covered tendrils. He knew she had a mighty trick up her sleeve she'd not yet to show the world.

A thunderous sound tore through the sky, followed by a pair of lights, and two jets propelled towards the river. Archer watched eagerly to see how this would play out.

* * *

**A/N:** -throws cap into the air- GUESS WHO'S GRADUATED BITCHES!? I'M BACK


	21. Whispers of Endearment

_Babylon_

_For King Gilgamesh's eyes only_ , the scroll read, a hefty letter sent in by Haddad's falcon. It was sealed with the Pendragon crest, the blue wax crumbling easily in Gilgamesh's fingers. He lounged in his large bed, adorned with colorful pillows, but few blankets to speak of. The wide, arched windows blew in a crisp morning air, fluttering the light red curtains that decorated the exterior of this room. With haste, he propped up a pillow behind him to read the letter.

_Gilgamesh,_

_I write this to you to report the progress in our quest for the Holy Grail. We've reached out to all of our sources in hopes of finding clues_ of _its whereabouts. As divine Providence would have it, we've found solace in the monasteries that adorn England's towns and countrysides. Each monastery has their own take on how a relic such as the Grail, which originated in Jerusalem, could have made it's way to our shores._

_As of right now, I have not ordered a quest just yet. I do not wish to send my knights on a wild ghost chase. I hope you understand, but we are making progress._

There were some lines that had been smudged beyond legibility, but it continued.

 _Your absence in Camelot is [smudge] apparent. The world seems just a little less colorful without the spirit of Babylon. I feel as if the people could not appreciate your passion without first experiencing the weeks that followed your departure. Perhaps during the_ solstice, _or another holiday, we can arrange a gathering to celebrate our alliance, give the people something to appreciate. I'm sure [smudge] they would welcome the liveliness from the east with open arms._

_I will continue my reports as requested and look forward to seeing Haddad's falcon in return._

_King Arthur Pendragon_

Gilgamesh couldn't help but smirk at the false name. He read the letter over again, trying to decipher any longing within its words, any indication that she, not Aruthur, missed him.

* * *

_Arturia,_

_There's no need for formalities. My eyes are the only ones that see these words, and I wouldn't have it any other way._

Arturia's face flushed, her heart racing briefly upon seeing he'd written down her true name on paper. What if this letter had been intercepted? She read on anyway.

_I'm glad to hear the search has had some fruition. And you're right, Camelot did seem to be in need of some color. I'm happy to hear my presence is missed, my little king._

She flushed again.

 _But I agree on reuniting our allied forces. In five moons, we will be celebrating_ Akitu _, a cleansing and recreating of the world for the coming year. If you and your knights can stomach_ our _, how did your dog Lancelot put it, pagan ways, perhaps you can find it in yourself to enjoy the festivities we have to offer. I wait with bated breath for your reply, my little king._

_Gilgamesh_

Arturia swallowed as she read the letter. Five months. Even the existence of a time in which she could see him again filled some strange void in her gut. It was like a fresh painting over an otherwise enigmatic picture of her fantasies.

The king moved to her bed and placed the letter in a chest. It contained other things left in the Babylonian's absence: A gold arm bracelet, a pair of his earrings, and one of his robes he'd left in her chambers, all after a heated evening together. Arturia was sure he'd left them here on purpose. It was not as if he missed them, wallowing in his earthly riches. Arturia thought ill of him momentarily, and then her fingers grazed the rich crimson fabric, and her face couldn't help but darken to match its shade.

These would be a very long five months.

* * *

_Fuyuki River_

Archer watched the jets with relative apathy before drawing his gaze down to watch Saber fight Caster's monstrosity. At one point, one of the jets became overtaken by the demon's tentacles and pulled in, absorbed into the hunk of meat, and disappeared.

The second turned its flight path, as Archer watched. In the second it took the king to blink, a shadowy figure appeared on the jet. Inky black, trailing dark smoke. Archer could catch the gleaming color underneath Berserker's armor.

For once, Gilgamesh's stomach turned a loop. He'd seen the mad dog command swords, light posts, chunks from the ground, and turn them into weapons of his own insane destruction. Now, he had a war machine.

Berserker's claws dug into the metal hull of the aircraft. It's blackness corrupted the outer shell, like ink spilled over its hull. Archer frowned, noticing how the dark mana stained the silver wings, turning a product of modern technology into a strange, archaic amalgamation of flight and Hell.

"Oh..." Archer narrowed his eyes. "This could be problematic."

Tokiomi watched the same terrifying scene unfold and then looked down to earth.

"Archer, let me be the Master's opponent," he said back to the King. "I will find Berserker's Master and disrupt his mana consumption."

Archer grinned, "Very well. Go have your fun."

Gilgamesh's fingers twitched on the armrests of his throne, and the golden arc glided with grace further towards the ground. Still, at an impressive height, Tokiomi smoothed his overcoat and stepped calmly from the arc.

Archer looked towards the F15 jet, now a steel shadow in the sky. Thanks to the classifications of his Servant class, Gilgamesh could clearly see the gleaming crimson eyes turn to him, and then turn downward.

"Despicable mongrel," Gilgamesh muttered, the Gate of Babylon opening behind him. "You think you belong in the skies where the kings dance? A laughable offense."

Sparkling spears and blades shot out to meet the mad dog in the sky. But now that he was armed with a weapon and mount in one, Berserker broke through the gap between the tight shower of Archer's Noble Phantasms.

Gilgamesh tilted his head and the weapons turned in the air, spinning towards the F15. Berserker rolled through the air on his own Noble Phantasm and continued to avoid the barrage of weapons.

"How impertinent," Gilgamesh grumbled as he watched the jet slow in the air and turn to face him. The gleaming eyes turned down once more and then dropped like a weight, falling, and then accelerating into a nose dive. Archer found himself surprised and then looked down at the F15's path. The jet sped towards a disturbance on the surface of the river, a blur of blue and silver, towards Arturia.

Gilgamesh's bright eyes flared in instant fury. The golden arc roared to life and dove after Berserker, and Gilgamesh launching half a dozen Noble Phantasms towards the F15 in the process.

"You dare attack that which is mine!" Gilgamesh bellowed. He watched Arturia out of the corner of his eye as she seemed to be retreating to the shore, as were Lancer and Rider. He had to get that mad dog off her.

"I will plunge you into the dirt!"

More dazzling blades appeared and bore down in every direction, herding Berserker's plane into a sharper nose dive. At this rate, it would collide with Caster's monster. In response, the F15's wings opened its flaps, dragging against the air, trying to decelerate.

And then just like that, Caster's demon was gone, followed by Rider's battle cry that also faded into nothingness. He and his chariot disappeared. Archer assumed he had used his Reality Marble on the beast. As impressive as it was, it would only buy them time.

Archer's shining weapons disappeared before they hit the ground as not to stain them in filth. Berserker took advantage of this and twisted upward and shot into the air, spraying water in a violent wake beneath him. The force nearly knocked the Servants who were on the shore off their feet. F15 was turning back towards Arturia.

Archer's eyes widened as he realized F15 was turning back towards Arturia.

* * *

_Babylon_

Gilgamesh lay in bed, disappointed after having dismissed his latest conquest. His taste in women- and men had changed since his return to Uruk. The more delicate flowers of the court were turned away more and more. The young messengers sent off without further service to their king.

Gilgamesh laid his head back and blew his hair out of his face in frustration. He felt no satisfaction even when he has his lovers turned around, their backs serving little resemblance to Arturia's. Even the more muscular male figures he requested couldn't hold a candle to her. The combination of a woman's curves with the forms and ridges of hard labor, cut into her body as if from a chisel. He thought about running his fingers over every curve, every scar, and every dip. He groaned, low in the back of his throat as he imagined it. And it was suddenly as if he had not just finished bedding someone.

"You truly miss her more than you like to let on, my dear friend."

Gilgamesh's eyes shot open, only to see Enkidu standing over him, his hair dangling far to his knees, swinging in a breeze much gentler than the one that blew through the curtains of his room.

"You're back..." Gilgamesh groaned up at the ghost. His mind truly would never give him peace. It had been a long time since the spirit of his friend had tormented his mind. Enkidu lowered himself to Gilgamesh's side, crossing his legs underneath him.

"You missed me," he said, smiling sweetly.

"I do not." Gilgamesh closed his eyes. "I was perfectly content in your absence."

"That's because you were perfectly content in Arturia's presence."

Gilgamesh sighed and turned on his side, facing away from Enkidu, only to find himself staring at his friend once more,as if he'd been sitting on the other side of him the whole time.

"Go. Away."

Enkidu shook his head,

"But why? Your mind is churning once more. Your grief wells up once more without the comfort of the girl king."

"She is no girl."

Enkidu rolled his eyes and leaned back until he collapsed into the cushy mattress. The pillows didn't move under him. He wasn't there. Gilgamesh had that much to keep his mind tethered.

"Girl, boy, man, woman, what does it matter? You miss her."

"I miss her company."

"Wrong!" Enkidu's voice rang out like a bell. "You miss her. Of course, her company is an added benefit to her presence, and certainly, you miss her body. I know you do because I'm in your head."

"Oh, glory to the gods, you finally admit it," Gilgamesh muttered deadpan and turned back over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and stretched out. Enkidu had moved from the bed to the window, balancing on the smooth sandstone separator.

"You invited her to Akitu. You think she'll attend a holiday in favor of gods that are not hers?"

"Her views on religion are...malleable."

"So you've converted her."

Gilgamesh frowned, "No. Why am I talking to you?"

"You're the one who wanted me here."

The king sat up and tossed a pillow at Enkidu. It flew through him and disappeared out the window. Gilgamesh cared little for its absence and leaned back again.

"Deny it all you want, but the more and more you try and replace her with cheap imitations," said Enkidu, "the more you'll find you can't be satisfied with a fake."

Gilgamesh growled, begging his mind to clear. He finally stood up and lazily wrapped his robes around him before heading to his garden. And yet, even there, memories of Arturia lingered. Their talk of an alliance, her shock of his display with another woman, the sight of her in the Babylonian dress. He breathed in the scent of the greenery and gave into the memories.

A/N: -hangs head in shame-


	22. Sword of Promised Glory

_Lothian, Scotland_

A small child, wielding a blade that seemed like it should have been too heavy for them, cut down illusionary conjurings of soldiers. Ducking and weaving, they interacted with the child, trying to cut them down, knocking the side of their helmet to throw them off, kicking them down with ease, until the child learned to ground their feet. Nearby, the child's mother sat under the shade of an out of season blooming tree, watching the little warrior cut into the illusions, effectively killing them. They even bled, screamed, and writhed on the ground, begged for mercy. Once, the child hesitated, removing their helmet to look at the bleeding man.

"Mordred," Mother scolded from where she sat. "Do not take off your helmet."

Mordred was little more than a few months old, yet she appeared to be somewhere around seven or eight years. The strange goddess who spent time with Mordred's mother had blessed her to learn quickly, in turn, she also grew faster than other children. Not that Mordred had made any friends. She wasn't permitted to interact with other children of Lothian, much less befriend them. Mother said they would grow suspicious of her power, most likely even grow jealous. No one would want to be around her if she surpassed them in every field, only mother could understand, because mother was old enough to understand, she once said.

Mordred wiped the sweat from her pale brow and brushed short golden bangs from her face before replacing the helmet on her head. Mother rose from where she stood and approached the child, kneeling next to her over the pleading illusion.

"This is a lesson in mercy," she said to Mordred, taking her sword from her tiny hands. "It is for the weak."

The illusionary man leaned up in one final attempt to strike, and Mother cleanly swung through his throat, severing his head from his shoulders. She handed the sword back to Mordred and looked through the slit in the helmet into the girl's crimson eyes.

"When you show mercy, you give your enemy the opportunity to kill you," she grasped her shoulders tightly. "This is what your father has, and it makes him weak, vulnerable, unfit to rule the kingdom unrightfully his."

Mordred nodded, obediently listening to Mother as she continued,

"That is why it is your destiny to take his place, as his rightful heir, and more fit to rule than he ever has been." Mother cupped the side of Mordred's helmet as if to cup her cheek. "You are so much more, my child. So much more." Mother's gaze softened. Mordred liked it when Mother smiled at her. It reminded her of the children she watched from afar when their mothers looked at them.

"You are my very own, and while you may have your father's vile blood, you also have mine," Mother continued, stroking the helmet with her thumb. "And so, someday, you can purge Camelot of its weakness, and begin a new lineage, Mordred, the only one of her true name. True King of Knights, the rightful heir to the throne at Camelot."

Mordred nodded, still processing what all this meant to her. She had heard so many awful things about her father, King Arthur, and wondered how his kingdom remained aloft, one of the most powerful. Whenever she asked Mother, Mother just said that he was weak, but he was also a good liar and a good fighter. And that was why she was learning to fight now, so she would be better than Arthur ever was at her age.

"Do you understand, my child?"

Mordred adjusted her helmet and nodded, "Yes, mother."

* * *

_Mion River_

"What do we do?" The young master, Waver, trembled, even in the absence of Caster's great beast. Saber looked out onto the waters as a dark jet skimmed the river's surface, drawing up curtains of water as its thrusters kicked in. The force of its acceleration knocked everyone over. Saber stumbled to catch Irisviel before she hit the ground.

"It's Berserker!" Lancer exclaimed, pointing the tip of his spear towards the F15 as it turned sharply in the air.

"It's headed this way!" Irisviel cried, clinging to Saber, who drew her sword up with one hand. She cursed to herself. She needed her left hand in order to do any damage. And she couldn't access her Noble Phantasm without it. There would be no other way to defeat Caster's Fortress.

As Berserker approached, roaring through the air, a blinding flash of golden rain beat down on the mad dog. Saber looked up to see Archer's golden arc soaring down, bombarding Berserker with his Noble Phantasms. He had a look of fury in his eyes, even she could see from this distance. Their gazes met for but a brief second, and then Besersker pulled up and away from the rain of blades, and away from her, followed closely by Archer.

"He's- helping?" Waver sputtered in disbelief. Irisviel glanced over at Saber, a look of unspoken words on her face. But now was not the time to question Saber. Whether she was going to say something or not, the mobile phone in her hands began to buzz wildly, accompanied by an electronic ringtone.

"Um...ah!" she looked at the phone confused as to what to do with it. To be fair, Saber had never seen Irisviel operate one of those devices before.

"What do I do with this?" Irisviel asked, looking at Waver. Waver sighed and snatched the phone away.

"Hello?"

"Iri?" The deep voice on the other end seemed confused.

"Erm, no, I'm-"

"Ah, Rider's master. Just as well, I need to speak with you."

"Who-"

"Doesn't matter. Caster's disappearance was Rider's doing, correct?"

Waver flushed and looked around him at the Servants and Irisviel.

"Well, yes."

"When Rider releases his Reality Marble, can he place the monstrosity in a specific location?"

Saber, able to hear her Master on the other end of the line, wondered what the answer would be. A roar in the sky drew her gaze up to see the dogfight between the ancient flying machine, and one of Japan's finest aircrafts. She was grateful to Archer for joining the fight against Caster, but something seemed- strange, in his actions, they always did. She felt an unusual tug when he was around, even while miles above them.

"It should be possible, to an extent, I suppose," Waver said, his voice shaky into the receiver. "Probably around a hundred meters at best. But that is all in Rider's hands."

"That will do," said Kiritsugu. "I will designate a time, and then send up a flare in the area to place Caster, directly there. Are you capable of completing that task?"

Waver paused in thought.

"I think I can do that. Maybe...probably."

There was a pause on the other end.

"One more thing. Tell Lancer this…" Saber immediately tensed, realizing what her Master was about to say. "Saber's left hand is an anti-fortress Noble Phantasm."

Lancer, also able to hear the conversation, his face paling in surprise. He looked over to Saber, who averted her gaze from him.

"Is this true?" said Lancer. She simply nodded.

"Your left hand holds the ability to defeat Caster?"

"It...yes," Saber said hesitantly, her eyes falling on the golden spear that inflicted the unhealable wound upon her hand.

"Saber," Lancer looked at her sharply. "Caster is a monster. He treats the despair of others as some form of divinity, some righteous act. He rejoices in other's pain and fear. As a knight, I cannot overlook this. You of all the Servants…" He gripped the golden lance in his hands, knuckles tensing around it. "...should understand this."

"Lancer no!" Saber stepped forward, realizing what he was about to do, but it was too late. Lancer pressed hard and the spear snapped, the curse of Gae Buidhe bursting in cold mist from the broken edges, and from Saber's left hand. She felt her thumb twitch in renewal. Lancer smiled, even as the power of his Noble Phantasm left him.

"The one thing that must claim victory here, is the chivalry we serve. Wouldn't you agree, Arturia?"

* * *

_Camelot_

Guinevere was sure she'd receive a scolding for going out to ride without an escort, but she had to be alone. The strong mare carried her swiftly to the river's edge, her sanctuary, her place of solitude. It may have held painful memories of Lancelot rejecting her, but she didn't care. Camelot brought far more pain than a riverbank. She slid off the mare and tethered her to a root where she could drink from the river if she wished. The queen could already feel the tightness in her chest, the heat in her face, behind her eyes as tears welled up. She knelt down before the river and tried to compose herself. Even in solitude, she somehow felt there was an image for her to constantly to uphold, a facade.

After a feeble attempt to calm the pain in her chest, she let go, unleashing the hurt, the loneliness, and confusion she'd tried to push down for so many years. Tears streamed down her face, her ugly face, contorted in pain, not a face for court, for the appeal of men, for her king. She buried her face in her hands, even now, to hide her shame from the river, from the wind.

Why would Arturia come back into their bed like this? Why now? What possessed her to reopen this chapter in their lives that Guinevere had resolved to be over. They were never intimate, but they were close, relying on each other for comfort, for warmth. Arturia's heart had not been lost completely to her ideals at that time in their marriage. They had been friends. And then one night, she just appeared. Lonely, she said she was. The king was lonely was she?

Guinevere leaned forward and dug her fingers into the mud of the riverbank, reveling in the satisfying feel of cool mud giving under her grip. Something else would have to feel the crushing sensation her heart felt now. Something else needed to suffer. The earth would suffer with her.

Even after squeezing mud through her fingers, Guinevere sighed and washed off in the running water. Old habits died hard, and her image was an old one indeed.

A stick snapped behind her and she gasped, a dozen regrets running through her head as she stood up, stumbled, and then reached for a stick, ready to defend herself. In the dim evening light, Lancelot came through the clearing. His expression turned from worry to relief, and then worry again as he saw her face. Her eyes were surely puffy and red, ugly. Her dress would be stained at the knees, and her sleeves. She would insult her husband were she to appear in court like this.

"My queen," he said, a look of sorrow on his face as he approached her. "What are you doing? Why would you come out here on your own? Why-"

He trailed off as a fresh round of tears ran down Guinevere's cheeks. She dropped the stick and reached forward for him, gripping his tunic in a vice grip and pulling him forward. She buried her face in his chest, overcome by sobs.

"Why must you knights have so much damn pride!" she said, slamming her fist into his chest. "Why?"

Lancelot took Guinevere's shoulders and pulled her at arm's length to look at her.

"Guinevere, what are you talking about?"

"Do you thrive on the pain of lonely maidens?" she spat at him. "You and your king? Do my loneliness and my pain give you strength? Does pulling me close, only to force me away keep your ideals and your chivalry spotless in the eyes of the court?"

Lancelot's face twitched, hurt flickering across his face. Guinevere took a deep breath and stopped before she said anymore. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. The knight's grip on her shoulders softened just a bit. The silence hung heavy between them now, broken only by the bubbling river, and Guinevere's sniffles.

"Guinevere…" Lancelot's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked into her eyes and his face twitched in pain again. "You think I want to push you away."

Guinevere's lip trembled, her brow furrowed. She wanted to slap him.

"Perhaps it's easier to tell myself that," she said, releasing his tunic; it lay wrinkled and dirty against his chest now. "Perhaps it's less painful to-"

Lancelot's hands moved from her shoulders, into her hair, and he pulled her close, kissing her. Guinevere found her hands resting on his chest once more, tracing the delicate bends and twists she'd made in the fabric, while taking in the warmth and firm touch of the knight's lips on hers. She pressed close to him, her hands sliding up to hug around his neck. His long dark hair brushed against her arms. She memorized every sensation, yearning for more. She begged with her body, flush against him, deepening the kiss. Lancelot's movements were stiff, as if he even now fought his actions, winding his arms down and around her waist.

The pain in Guinevere's chest turned to fire, a warm desire, a want for him, the man she loved.

The _man_ she loved.

* * *

_Mion River_

Archer's eyes glimpsed the breaking of Gae Buidhe's curse, the gale force winds that surrounded Arturia as her power was restored to her. As the winds kicked up, he saw it. The great blade, Arturia's golden sword, Excalibur.

He'd not seen it since the Grail War had begun, as it had always been concealed in the Barrier of Wind. And now it glittered, brighter than any of his treasures, more precious than anything in his Gate. Because it was hers. Because it represented all the knights' ideal, she'd once said to him, long ago.

Archer found himself momentarily distracted, giving Berserker the window he needed to turn on a dime in the air and jet back down towards Saber.

"Have you no control you mad dog!?" Archer cursed and dove after the F15. He quickly closed the distance between them, the golden arc traveling faster than ever before. He would now allow the mad dog to interrupt Arturia's Noble Phantasm, the only hope they had left of defeating Caster.

The Gates of Babylon opened up wide, dozens of blades soaring behind Archer, before firing like hail down on Berserker. There was nowhere for him to evade, he would be hit.

But then, unlike the missiles Berserker had released before, hundreds of smaller objects flew from the F15's hull, a spray of tiny explosives. Archer's eyes widened.

"What-"

The golden arc exploded upon impact, throwing Archer from its burning remains. Archer felt little worry as he fell, for he just as quickly disappeared in a gold mist, gently setting himself atop the red bridge, still yet to touch the ground.

His eyes fell on Saber once more, she had moved onto the water's surface, poising herself with her back to the bridge, the sword still shining bright. She was waiting...for something.

A roar drew Archer's gaze up to the clouds where Berserker's jet fell apart, and a smaller green figure leaped from it.

"Lancer?" Archer muttered to himself, his suspicions confirmed by the glint of the long red spear spinning in the air.

But even then, the mad dog had not been subdued. Falling from the wreckage of the corrupted F15, Berserker managed to grab hold of the Vulcan autocannon, untouched by Lancer's spear. As he plummeted, he poised himself and pointed the giant six barrels at Arturia. She finally turned to see the rotary cannon start to spin, preparing to unleash 200 kilograms of deadly ammunition.

"No!" Archer growled, the Gates of Babylon shining open behind him, illuminating the bridge in a brilliant liquid light. The weapons streaked from their hold, hammers, axes, lances all cleaved into the gun, demolishing it in Berserker's hands. One weapon struck true into the ammunition storage and ignited the weapon. A plume of hot flames blew Berserker away through the empty air and into the water. He sunk like a rock with his armor.

The look on Arturia's face as she found the source of her savior was briefly satisfying to Archer. He cracked a wicked smile, eliciting a conflicted expression from her.

"Now Arturia, show it to me!" he called out across the water. "Show me the true worth of your power, the ideals that you told me so long ago. Let your brilliance shine, my lioness!"

Even if his words did not conjure any memories, it clearly fired her up. Anything to stoke the fire in the heart of the king. A fire he so missed to see, the burning in her eyes, the flare of her muscles as she pressed back against everything that wished to knock her down, her battle cry.

Another cry filled the air as Rider reappeared into the real world, his Reality Marble broken. Caster's monster appeared deeper in the river, as if Rider had directed where the beast would land.

"What took you so long!" Rider called, gripping the reins of his chariot tightly in his large hands. "Get on with it!"

This was it. Excalibur burned bright as Arturia lifted it high. Archer watched in awe as dozens of lights came into existence around Arturia, and then hundreds, then thousands, millions of star-like lights emerged from nowhere, illuminating the shore and water in warm holy light.

They were all the hearts of fallen warriors, those who'd faced the hellscape that was the battlefield. All, over the ages, before and after Arturia's rule, were represented in Excalibur's power. Fierce, pure and unyielding, the lights gathered towards Excalibur's blade, illuminating Saber. She looked like a goddess to Archer. Her bright hair, her pale skin, even facing away, he could picture her blazing eyes, locked onto her target.

Excalibur shined, and yet radiated sorrow, the souls of defeated warriors, regretful decisions, unfulfilled dreams. All weighting on the king's small shoulders, all pouring into her body, her soul, reminding her the burden she carried, and the power that she wielded.

The lights danced in Gilgamesh's eyes as Arturia's feet dug into the surface of the water, her chest rose with a deep breath. Even he could feel the enormous amount of mana drawing into her, ready to release with one mighty cry.

"EXCALIBUR!" Arturia let the golden blade, heavy with the souls of all warriors, fall in a heavenly cleave.

Gilgamesh held his breath

* * *

 **A/N:** I feel like I owed you guys a quick update after taking so long for the last one, that and I've had a new surge of inspiration for this story.


	23. Chivalry's Dying Curse

_Mion River_

It was as if the light itself roared, mana surging like an exploding sun in a single streak of power. It devoured the monster in holy light, scorching it, piercing through it to the evil Servant inside. Bathed in the backlash of Excalibur's power, Saber found herself blinded, and yet she could see. The image of Fuyuki, of the Mion River, of all the Servants disappeared behind her eyes. Blurs and shapes of what felt like memories suddenly became visible. Upon battlefields and behind closed doors. Surges of pleasure, and then waves of sorrow sped past her like an entire life passing by. Voices, some of them sounded like her.

_"Why did you have to be so foolish!?"_

_"You can't leave me now."_

_"We were_ damned _to this from the start."_

Then, there was a swell of warmth. She felt a comforting embrace. A voice, deep, muted as if underwater.

_"We are not damned. You are my lioness, a rampant, and strong."_

Arturia felt an aching in her chest, like heartbreak, then a sharp pain shot through her body and she gasped. The light cleared from her eyes and she found herself standing on Mion waters again. Caster was gone, not even a carcass remained. She sucked in a breath of hot air, still heated by her Noble Phantasm.

She placed a hand on her chest in relief. Excalibur once more became shrouded in wind.

* * *

Gilgamesh felt a swell of pride after watching the display of Arturia's power, but he swiftly pushed the feeling aside as he sensed the presence of another Servant.

"Do you see it now? King of Conquerors? Will you still deny her, having witnessed this light?"

Rider appeared next to him, letting out a snide scoff at Archer's words.

"I saw it, that she took the burden and hope of every warrior, and that allowed her to wield such power. Blindingly brilliant." He paused, his expression shifting. "Who would have thought that one who carried such a heavy burden was only a little girl who liked to dream?"

"And you doubted me all those centuries ago," said Gilgamesh, turning to Rider with a proud grin. Rider's face twitched into a frown.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said through his teeth. "But this is a different time, oh King of Babylon. We are far beyond the capabilities of our mortals selves, as well as the vices that came from mortality.

"Such a woman," Rider continued, choosing to dismiss the touchy subject between them, "is truly the final result of one who has discarded youthful dreams...and love."

Archer winced at his words, looking down on Saber, his expression betraying sadness.

"That's exactly is what's lovely about her, isn't it?" he said. "Her mighty ideals she's harbored and burdened within her. The tears she shed in her final moments." He glanced sideways at Rider. "I imagine they would be very sweet to taste."

Rider raised a brow.

"You imagine nothing, from what I hear," he said. "To me, seeing all those burdens on her just makes her sad to look at."

Gilgamesh just narrowed his eyes at him n response.

"I'll allow you to escape for now, King of Conquerors. Speak of Arturia like that again and I will not be so merciful."

"Hehe, it would seem the almighty hero of Babylon has, what is the phrase, the proverbial Achilles heel?"

"Provoke me and repent your sin with death. Now leave!"

As the bloodlust rose in Archer's eyes, Rider narrowed his, gripping the reins of his chariot and whipped them swiftly.  
"Be wary of your investments, King of Heroes," he said. "They may be your downfall this time around."

The King of Conquerors disappeared in a thunderous rumble, leaving Gilgamesh to gaze on Arturia's exhausted form from above. She looked back up at him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Archer narrowed his eyes , lost in thought. Had something happened in that climactic victory? Another vision? A memory perhaps?

* * *

_Uruk_

Arturia, somehow, felt as if she were lacking a piece of clothing without Lancelot around. In responding to her invitation to Uruk to celebrate Akitu, her greatest knight and companion had volunteered to stay behind to look after Guinevere. Arturia did not protest, considering what had happened last time they were away from Camelot. Instead, she brought other knights: Gawain, Gareth, and Bedivere. The journey was more easily made without the threat of Normandy at their feet.

Arturia, however, did not welcome the heat of the desert once more. While her knights discarded pieces of their clothing, tying their tunics around their heads to protect themselves from the sun, she could do little to relieve herself of the sweltering heat. She managed to get away with a simple tunic, less armor than normal, along with a makeshift turban. The sun would surely burn her skin by the time they reached the palace.

To their surprise, they were met part of the way through the city by a procession of sorts. She'd seen smaller ones the first time they'd ridden through the city, but not nearly as large, not as ornate. A carriage pulled by creatures Gilgamesh had called camels. Ornamented with gold trimmings and rich colorful fabrics, and surrounded by a band of Babylonian royal guard, the carriage halted before them and a door on the side was opened by one of the guards.

Arturia swallowed hard as she watched Gilgamesh emerge from the shaded carriage, crimson robes draped over his slender form, casually hanging off one broad shoulder.

"Welcome back to Uruk, Arthur," he said with a wide grin. He met her eyes with an intensity that didn't match his grin. Arturia bowed in her saddle, along with her knights. When she rose, a guard had approached her.

"We can take your horse, your highness," he said. "His Grace requests you join him in the carriage, out of the heat."

Arturia swallowed again, looking up at Gilgamesh, who smirked at her reaction.

"Certainly."

The guard led the horse to the carriage, but allowed Arturia to dismount herself. Not that she was bothered by it. It reassured her identity as a man. Gilgamesh allowed her to enter the carriage and then called to the knights, "You can follow us back to the palace."

The second she stepped in and sat down on the plush seat, Arturia felt her stomach in knots, she'd not been expecting to be alone with him so quickly, and yet so publicly. The windows were covered by loose thin curtains, but it was a great deal cooler and she was thankful for that.

Gilgamesh ducked back inside and the curtain fluttered shut behind him. He moved to sit directly across from her. In the close quarters, the seats sat about an arm's length away from each other. He met her eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose, and made a low noise in the back of his throat. Arturia shifted, avoiding eye contact.

"I trust the journey was relatively trouble free?" said Gilgamesh. Arturia frowned, was he avoiding the topic on purpose?

"It was a pleasant one," she replied. "Much easier than before."

"That's good."

Then it was quiet. Painfully quiet. Arturia looked at the windows, and her mind wandered. She thought about if anyone on the outside would notice any extra movement within the carriage with the already bumpy roads. Thinking about it dried out her tongue and sent heat down between her legs. She pressed her thighs together and cleared her throat, crossing her arms across her chest.

"W-what festivities can we expect to see during Akitu?" she asked, not meeting his gaze, which she could feel burning into her body.

"It's mostly religious events," Gilgamesh said carefully, not taking his eyes off her. "And celebration of a new farming cycle. Thankfulness for a bountiful harvest, and a celebration of the gods."

Arturia finally met his gaze.

"I thought you did not believe in the gods."

Gilgamesh laughed.

"I believe in them, I just no longer hold respect for them."

Arturia narrowed her eyes, clearly confused at him. He leaned forward, but even the most marginal movement was enough to turn Arturia's stomach. She swallowed again.

"You want to know why I bother condoning these festivities," he said to her. She nodded. He tilted his head ever so slightly. "While I have lost my faith in the gods, my people still wholeheartedly devote their lives to them, their crops, their fertility." He winced at the last one. "I cannot hope to be a good king if I do not respect the beliefs of my people, no matter what I believe or do not believe."

He leaned back against the pillows, spreading his arms back against them. Arturia's eyes traced the lines from his shoulders, across his arm to his forearm, to wrist and then his fingers. Even now she was not accustomed to such public exposure to the human body. She had to get a hold of herself.

She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow and took in a slow breath.

"That is very….noble of you," she said, her eyes flickering to his for just a second. He grinned at her pleasantly.

For the love of God, she was not going to make it to the palace.

She blinked a new thought surfacing.

That was, if he even wanted her anymore. He'd returned to his haven, where no doubt countless women willingly submitted to him, probably every night. He'd been without her for months.

The heat between her legs ceased as an overwhelming discomfort twisted in her chest. A strange insecurity.

So many women, pretty women, actual women.

Gilgamesh seemed to notice her transition and furrowed his brow at her.

"What is it?"

She cleared her throat and did her best to compose herself in front of him.

"It's hotter than I'm used to," she said, breathily. "That's all."

He ran his gaze down her body, but it lacked any alluring look to them.

"We can probably accommodate you with proper clothing that still appropriately conceals you."

For some reason, Arturia's heart sank at that. He was being courteous. He didn't have that predatory aura about him, the passionate flavor to every word he spoke. He hadn't teased her, touched her, nothing.

Arturia looked out the opening the swaying curtains allowed between her and the window. The people of Uruk went about their day. How much they did not know about their king?

* * *

_Fuyuki_

Saber walked to the shore, avoiding Irisviel's gaze. Excalibur had taken a lot of mana from her, but she was not near collapsing. Thankfully her head did not ache with strange visions or voices.

"Kiritsugu said to go to the stronghold of Lancer's group," she said. "Now that Caster has been eradicated, the war has resumed."

Saber winced at that. Already? After they'd all worked together to defeat Caster?

Saber sighed and walked with Irisviel to the car. Waver was nowhere to be seen.

Following the directions Irisviel had given to her, Saber left Shinto, heading east, further out from more populated areas. She was at least thankful for that. The road led them to some factory, long abandoned by the look of it. Lancer surely would have returned to his Master's side after such a battle at the river.

"Are you alright Saber?" Irisviel asked, concern in her eyes. "Would another battle burden you?"

"No," she said lowly. "On the other hand, I hope to finish my battle tonight." Her voice was somber. "I should be asking you the same question, Irisviel. You do not look well."

It was true. The homunculus was pale, constantly wiping her forehead free of cold sweat. She'd been this way since they'd left the Mion River. She was clearly trying to hide it.

"Don't worry about me," she said breathily. "You are by my side, and so- ah, look, that should be it."

Upon closer inspection, the factory looked like some sort of old mill, for lumber perhaps. Abandoned, forgotten, overtaken by greenery, it bore a new purpose. Now, it would be an arena.

The two entered the warehouse cautiously, Irisviel slightly behind Saber. There were traces of enchantments, but they seemed poorly managed to Irisviel. They were fading.

"So you were able to find this place," arose Lancer's displaced voice. "It must not have been easy, dear Saber."

He came into view, his crimson lance gleaming in the moonlight.

"It took some investigation," said Saber with a smirk. Lancer did not smile back. Something was wrong.

"Where is my master's fiancee?" he said, pointing his spear towards her. "Would you claim ignorance to this?"

Saber's expression must have registered to him, as his arm lowered just a bit, but not completely.

"Should I know something about that?" Saber looked at Irisviel, who simply shook her head, just as confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Hm," Lancer hummed, and then sighed. "Pretend I never asked." He seemed more relieved than disappointed. "Have you come to continue our dance? Are you not exhausted?"

"All the Servants are in the same situation." Saber held Excalibur tightly, her grip renewed with the strength of her left hand "Taking that into consideration, there should be no one else to interrupt us tonight."

"Tonight?" Lancer cracked a grin. "My dear Saber, it's almost dawn. We should make the fullest use of what moonlight we have left."

Lancer braced his feet into the ground, gripping Gae Dearg with both hands. In turn, Saber released the barrier of winds around her sword, revealing it in all its shining glory. There was no point in concealing it when his lance could easily disenchant the spell that concealed it.

A faint red started to appear in the sky as morning approached, and Lancer moved first, cleaving down hard onto Saber's blade, sending ethereal sparks into the air as she parried. It really was like a dance. Neither were trying to fake the other out, or use trickery this time. No, this was a true duel. Each move was a retaliation against the previous, countered with their full weight, all their strength into the edge to her sword and the point of his lance.

Finally, their blades separated and they flew back.

"Saber," he panted, unable to continue. He noticed she'd been holding back. She wrapped four fingers of her left hand around her blade. His eyes flickered down to the hilt of the sword, and then back up at her.

"Do not misunderstand, Lancer," she spoke up. "If I were to use my left hand, my shame would surely show on my blade."

"Saber…"

"I will fight this battle fairly, despite what circumstances have led us to this point."

He seemed taken aback by this, but resolution soon overcame him.

"You are truly a glorious woman, King of Knights. It has been an honor." His solemn lips cracked a small smile. "I, Diarmuid ua Duibhne, Knight of Fianna, have come to claim my victory."

"I, Arturia Pendragon, King of Britain, will contest that claim!"

Once again, they closed in, their blades clashing, sparks flying again. Even in this violent encounter, joy shone in their movements. She parried his spear, driving into the ground and running up it to strike at him. Lancer blocked her blade with his bracer, tossing her off, using the force to propel his spear for her heart.

Time slowed, the tip of his spear inches from Arturia's chest.

In the next instant, Arturia blinked, and then a spray of vermillion blood spread across her armor.


	24. Death's Hate and Desert's Heat

**A/N** : Sexual Content Warning

* * *

_Fuyuki_

Saber looked on in shock as Lancer's body slid further down his own spear. Red dribbled down over and his lips and from his eyes like tears. Why did he do that?

She stepped back, her mind racing.

Why did he pierce himself with his own beloved spear? That strike was meant for her. It nearly killed her.

She looked around for Lancer's Master, knowing that only the power of the Command Seals could have compelled Lancer to end his own life.

To her surprise, not one, but two Masters emerged from the shadows of the abandoned factory. Lancer's master, Kayneth Archibald, rolled out in his wheelchair, looking dazed with dead eyes. He cradled a thin woman in his lap, Sola, whose clothing was smeared in old blood that led from a poorly bandaged stub where her right hand should have been. She seemed to be in some sort of vegetative state, hardly even conscious.

And next to them, Kiritsugu, her own Master, walked with them, holding a rolled up scroll in one hand, an automatic pistol in the other.

Lancer seemed equally as shocked.

"Do you...so…" Lancer slid to his knees, splashing a crimson halo around him; his voice was hoarse and weak, blood trickling from his mouth. "Do you seek victory so much?!"

Saber trembled, unsure of what to do. She was confused. Had Kiritsugu done something so dishonorable to torture Lancer's Master into using his Command Seals on his Servant? It was too awful to be true.

"Do you want the Holy Grail so much?!" Lancer turned to Saber now, blood spraying from his harsh words. "So much that you would trample my only wish!? Don't you feel ashamed!?"

Saber actually recoiled under his once admirable, now bloody demonic gaze. Everything but monstrous, flaming hatred was drowned out by his own blood. He seemed to be using his last feat of strength to point the blame at her.

"This is unforgivable! You dead men slaved to fame, desecrating the glory of knights!" He jabbed his finger at Kiritsugu and Kayneth, trembling under his failing strength. "Let my blood stain that dream! I curse the Holy Grail! I curse you! May your dreams turn to disaster, and when you fall into the pits of hell, do not forget this wrath of Diarmiud's!"

Saber's trembling turned into shaking. Such blatant unadulterated treachery was inconceivable to her ideals as a knight. She felt compelled to say something, say anything, yet she could do nothing but watch in horror as Lancer's body unceremoneously crumbled, sliding further down his spear, before finally fading in a red and gold mist. And then, just like that, he was gone, all of him, his body, his spear, even his blood that once stained the ground had disappeared.

She finally tore her gaze from the empty ground and bore into her Master with her sharp green eyes, still too shocked to speak. Kayneth let out a breath and leaned his face against his beloved's, slowly reaching up to brush her hair aside. In that simple gesture, Arturia felt a deep tugging in her gut. It felt like...longing. Was it longing?

She closed her eyes tightly, her head starting to ache.

"And...and the contract?" said Kayneth, his voice raspy and filled with fear. Saber could hear the _flick_ of her Master's lighter, and the _shhh_ of him taking the first draw of a cigarette.

"It's sealed in full," he said. "I am contractually bound. It is impossible to kill you." Saber let out a breath of relief, then gasped as the sharp cracks of gunfire filled her ears. "For me, that is."

Her eyes flew open to see bullets from an unseen assailant rip through Kayneth and Sola like ragdolls, a deadly rain of automatic fire.

"No!" Saber called out without thinking. Kiritsugu perked a brow at her. The couple fell out of the wheelchair, their fresh blood replacing their Servant's on the ground. Newfound horror filled Arturia's face as she saw that Kayneth still moved, clawing at Sola's still body. She must have been killed quickly, the luckier of the two. Kayneth pushed over on his back, heaving for air. Red seeped through his coat. He reached for Kiritsugu's pant leg, but he brusquely shook him off.

"Kill….kill me…"

Kiritsugu took a drag of his cigarette.

"Sorry," he said through the smoke. "It's in the contract that I can't fulfill that request."

Kayneth sobbed in agony, and unable to take it anymore, Saber walked over. With a swift swing, she mercifully ended his life, looking her master in the eyes with a hateful gaze, cold fire.

"Kiritsugu," she said through her teeth. "I now see. I understand it now. You are a man without morals." Her lips twitched in a snarl. "I thought our goals were the same; how naive I was…"

Emiya's expression didn't change.

"Answer me!" Saber snapped loudly. "Did you deceive even your own _wife_?" The word twisted the strange longing in her gut again; she tried to push it down. "Just to see your wish granted? You'd defy your beloved?"

Again, her gut twisted and she turned away as not to show the pain that travelled to her head. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, the irritation building in her Master's face, though he didn't speak.

"Iri," he said. "Was this the first time you'd witnessed the contract, _modus operandi_?"

"No, Kiritsugu," Irisviel actually snapped, a change from her weakness. "I don't need your words. Give them to Saber. You owe her that- Saber!"

While Irisviel had spoken, Saber turned and started to walk away.

"I have nothing to say to her. She is nothing more than a killer manipulated by glory and honor."

In the blink of an eye, Saber swiped her sword back and the force gale caused by it chipped into the pillar next to her Master's head. Turning only to see the cigarette drop from her Master's slack jaw, she found little satisfaction in it. She could never truly do him harm, but she'd made her point. She couldn't be around him. She felt bad for Irisviel, but she couldn't stay here. She dared Kiritsugu to use a Command Seal on her. She dared him.

With the winds at her feet, she bounded away, wishing she had her motorcycle on which to speed down the road. She longed to feel the wind in against her face, the same sensation that came from horseback riding.

She didn't even pay attention to where her feet took her, only that it took her as swiftly as possible.

It was only when she found herself at the gates of the Tohsaka mansion that she questioned her instincts.

* * *

_Uruk_

Gilgamesh had the knights escorted to their private quarters, and requested council with Arturia to further discuss her search for the Grail. The two, unescorted, walked down the tall sandstone halls of the palace, thin curtains allowing a pleasant breeze to cool the two of them. He wondered if Arturia was more relieved from the heat now. Though she had yet to change from her warm northern garments. She still seemed a little ill, even compared to when they were in the carriage. He suddenly doubted his desires.

They approached Gilgamesh's quarters with a steady pace, him not having to slow to meet hers. She suddenly began to walk with stronger steps, her heavy boots echoing down the hall despite what little armor she wore at the moment in the desert heat.

The great golden doors opened to them and the guards who had been standing there disappeared at their king's command. Arturia walked ahead of him into his room, where a table had been lay out near the center of the room. It contained bowls of fruits and plates of cooked bird. A glistening gold pitcher contained Gilgamesh's favorite wine, with two jade goblets sitting next to it. She stood a few strides from the table, silent, staring at the display. Gilgamesh stopped shortly behind her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. She was quiet for a moment, but she shook her head and then turned.

"No," she said, capturing his gaze in hers. "Simply waiting."

Gilgamesh raised a brow. Waiting for what?

The faint heavy sound of the outer door to the corridor closing reached their ears. The next second, he felt Arturia's grip hard on his robes. She pulled him down to her, fiercely crushing her lips to his. Her ferocity surprised him, but he recovered, weaving his fingers into her hair, tangling into her strange Celtic braids. He longed to take down her hair and tug her head back.

They found themselves stumbling into a nearby pillar, his weight pushing her into the sandstone. She grunted as her back hit, but she continued to kiss him with so much passion. She tugged at his robes with such an intensity that they hung loose and wrinkled around his torso. He took her wrists and pushed them up above her head, holding them with one hand while the other held her chin in a rough grip, his thumb grazing her lips. He rested his forehead against hers, chuckling heavily. He actually needed a moment to breathe.

"Gods, woman," he exhaled heavily, watching the desire burn in her eyes. "Have you found no relief this whole time?"

Arturia too breathed heavily, strands of fair hair framed her face.

"Not to the degree of your talents," she cracked a grin and squirmed against his grip. Gilgamesh's brows perked at her, desire burning in the pit of his stomach. He moved his free hand to the ties at her armor. Arturia tugged at his grip, silently begging to be released. He grinned wickedly.

"Are you trying to escape?" he said, pulling on the leather thread that held her metal tassets. He leaned down and kissed her as the tassets clamored loudly to the floor. His hand snaked between her legs, pushing up through the fabric of her tunic. Arturia moaned against his lips, still pulling at his grip.

"Not escaping," she breathed. "Helping."

Gilgamesh looked her in the eyes and smiled, releasing his grip on her. In turn, she reached up and wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him more fiercely. Her hands trailed down his neck and over his shoulders, pushing the one shoulder of his robes off his arm and then pulled it further down his chest, her fingers trailing over the hard contours of his abdomen.

Gilgamesh growled low in his throat and pushed Arturia harder against the pillar, groping around for other pieces to her armor. Arturia whined as his hand left her thighs, but continued to disrobe him. He found his mark and her chest piece slid off her slender body, joining the tassets on the floor. He leaned in and ran the edge of his teeth up her throat before biting down just below her ear, taking care to clamp his hand over her mouth. Her fingers tightened into his belt, loosening it.

"Where," Arturia gasped. "...is...your….bed?"

Gilgamesh groaned against her throat, his eyes drifting to the open bedroom across the way. It wouldn't take them long to get there.

"Mmm, too far."

He tugged at her slacks, dropping down to pull them all the way down. He gripped her hips and looked up at her. Her face was red, and her breath heavy. She instinctively pressed against the pillar, always having to hold onto something when he did this.

This wasn't like the first time, or even of the times after that, before his departure from Britannia. Gilgamesh felt impatient. He didn't need to spend his time teasing her, working her up. When he stood back up he moved his hands around to her backside and hefted her up against the pillar. Her slacks fell off her ankles and she kicked down his robes with her feet. He couldn't be bothered to disrobe her further. He wanted her now.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he readjusted his near painful grip on her thighs and pushed up into her. His lips captured her moans.

"Mmm," he groaned against her lips. "I love your roars, little lioness, but my palace echoes more than yours."

She whined, burying her face into the crook of his neck. She emitted low groans with each slow move he made in and out of her. He drank her noises like nectar and pressed against her harder, her shoulder blades scraping against the sandstone. He muttered curses into her throat and drew blessings from hers, "Oh god, ahh!"

Arturia held on with a vice grip, with the strength of a warrior, even anchoring her hand into his hair. Once she sunk her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her moans.

He wanted her more. He wanted her all to himself, no one else's. In that moment, he wished Britannia was but a fiction of their imagination, and she was solely his to have, to pleasure, to-

His thoughts were muddled with fits of passion as he built the tempo between them. Arturia's noises went up in pitch. She was getting close already. Gods, she was close. He could feel it inside her.

"Nngh, fuck," he groaned, holding out for her, feeling her tighten up around him. It wasn't until she gasped in and dug her nails into his back that he pushed fast and deep for his own ending pleasure.

Heat radiated around their bodies, his slick with sweat, hers soaked into her tunic that bunched up around her torso. He slid down onto his knees, pulling her down to sit under him, smoothing her tunic before he set her down. He drew in a deep breath and then leaned in to gently kiss her.

She kissed him back, her lips swollen but soft.

It took him a moment to realize- this was strange. The gentle affection, her fingers tracing tender circles around his arms. This- soft affection.

He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. She huffed out a small laugh at him.

"Gods," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "You were more eager than me."

Arturia laughed and leaned her head back against the pillar. "I…" She stopped, her smile disappearing. Gilgamesh frowned.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, I-uh, I missed this."

He smirked, scooped her up into his arms, and carried her the bed a few strides away. She melted into the bed, leaning back with a soft breath of exhaustion.

"It's been far too long," she said. Gilgamesh sat down next to her, unashamed that he'd not picked up his robes to redress.

"I imagine you couldn't find someone to satisfy your needs, could you?"

She shook her head, looking up at him. He hadn't laid down with her.

"What about your queen?" he said with a shrug. "I know many women who prefer the company of their own to men."

Arturia frowned.

"I...don't know," she said softly. "We, were only marginally close once, on our wedding night." She paused. "But it was all for show, to deceive the priests and nobles who were on the other side of the curtain."  
Gilgamesh's brows arched. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear that story, oddly enough.

Arturia stared at him in silence for a while before he finally prompted, "What?"

She averted her gaze and pulled her tunic further down. The burst in shame did not get past him. He placed a hand on her thigh, not roughly, and rubbed his thumb across her skin. He traced up a scar that had been from when she was attacked in her chamber so many months ago. It was long and smooth, a clean slice. He found himself fixated on it for a while before Arturia broke the silence.

"I imagine you've had no trouble finding women with with which to please yourself?"

He trailed his gaze up her frame to meet her eyes once more. They almost looked sad, but she was trying to conceal it.

"I have," he said lowly; her lip twitched. "In a way."

Her pale brows furrowed.

"What?"

He looked back down at her legs and ran his hand down to her knee. Her leg jerked a little as he circled her knee. He smirked; she must have been ticklish there. He caressed up and down her leg, enjoying the cuts of muscle, the varying scars, signs of battle, and then yet how pale she remained, having had to cover herself up her entire life to keep a facade. Her skin was nearly white under her clothes.

"Hm?" he found himself distracted again.

"What did you mean by 'in a way'?"

He blinked. Right.

"I meant," he started slowly, carefully. "With those I've taken to my bed in the past months-" He watched her face carefully, noticing the way it twitched uncomfortably and then smoothed over to hide it once more. "-none of them have quite been...the same as my experiences with you."

Arturia seemed surprised, perhaps even pleased by this.

"Oh?"

He nodded, and then smirked.

"My little king, there are not many like you, you know," he scoffed. "Women with the shoulders of a king and the heart of a warrior."

She watched him as he spoke, her expression softening with each word. Gilgamesh smiled, but inside he felt...odd. This was strange.

He continued to rub up and down her thigh with his fingers, stopping short only when she brushed his hand with hers. He looked up at her quizzically and she withdrew her hand, crossing her arms across her chest.

"So," she said quietly. "You missed...this?"

The question sounded wrong in his ears. Of course he missed this. It was some of the best sex he'd had in a very long time. But her tone, the hush in her voice, it was almost as if that wasn't the question she was really asking. After a long pause to think about what she meant, he simply grinned with confidence and leaned over her.

"Yes," he said, watching her face morph into anticipation for more. "I did miss _this_."


	25. Praying to the Indifferent Wind

_?_

_Berserker dwelled in a world of inky swirls, a fever dream of terror. Even in what seemed like a void, he felt the pressure of the black pushing against his armor. He looked forward to see his Master, Matou Kariya, clad in nothing but his own skin, his head lulled to the side as if barely conscious._

_"What is this place?" he groaned weakly, not directly at Berserker. "Who are you?"_

_The Mad Dog found his anger boiling again, the void stirred with his rage, like a brewing storm. Beneath him, the darkness rumbled and the area around him grew hot._

_"I am…" he growled out, remembering few words from his past life. "I am…"_

_He stepped forward, struggling against the pressure of the violent space of his own mad mind._

_"I am...the alienated…the ridiculed...the despised."_

_Skulls and bones floated along in the black, as if bobbing down an inky black river around him. His burning red eyes bore into Kariya's deformed face._

_"No need...to praise my name," Berserker continued, finding his voice, old and unused. "No need to envy my body. I am the shadow under the radiance of Heroic Spirits...Birthed of the darkness of a glorious legend…"_

_Kariya looked terrified. Good. The manifestations of Berserker's hatred slithered along like black snakes, coiling around his Master's body. Berserker reached out with his clawed gauntlet, holding back the urge to crush his Master's throat out of sheer instinct. Not his Master._

_"And so," he growled, "I hate. I resent, nourished by the sighs of people precipitated within the darkness. Those who curse the light…" His gauntlet closed around Kariya's throat; he couldn't help it. "This is my disgrace, Master. Because of her unsullied glory, her filthy facade and treachery. I must forever be belittled. Cursed!"_

_He heard the sickening crack from his helmet._

_"You are the sacrifice…"_

_Kariya screamed in agony as the Black Knight's claws dug into his throat, drawing blood. It trickled over his armor, filling in the intricate engravings, seeping up his hand._

_"Give me more!" Berserker roared. "More of your blood, your flesh, your life. Ignite my hatred!"_

_Even with Berserker's hand around his throat, his Master still managed to cry out one weak order._

_"STOP!"_

* * *

_Uruk_

Arturia leaned on the balcony that led from Gilgamesh's chambers. The city below echoed with music, but all of it somber, sad. Occasionally, she would make out an individual crying. She looked out onto the bright yellows and oranges, all the warm colors of this land, yet they contrasted with such cold emotion. It bothered her.

"Why is everyone grieving?" she said with a slight frown, looking to where Gilgamesh filled his cup with wine beside the bed. The Babylonian king glanced at her as he raised the cup to his lips.

"They're…" He winced. "They're not grieving per say. The first, second, and third day of Akitu are always the somber ones." He picked up a second cup and joined her at the balcony. "The priests of Ésagila," he pointed down towards one particular temple where the music was particularly loud. "They lead these sad prayers for fear of the unknown."

Arturia's brow furrowed down at the temple. Even from afar, it was grand in scale, decorated with gold and red ornaments and fabrics. A strong smell of incense wafted in the air.

"Do they not have faith in…" She trailed off, glancing at him for help. He grinned gently at her and handed her a filled cup of wine.

"Marduk is the god they pray to now," he said, and then took a sip from his cup. "Akitu is dedicated entirely to his victory over Tiamat, the goddess of the oceans." He glanced at her. "Both beautiful and chaotic."

"What is...Marduk's domain?"

"He is Babylon's patron deity," said Gilgamesh, leaning against the balcony. "The high priests beg for Marduk's forgiveness, begging him to once again favor the city."

He looked out over his city, his eyes scanning far. Arturia watched him carefully, noting his demeanor, his stance. He was relaxed, not tall or proud.

"The first time I heard your 'Lord's Prayer', it reminded me much of 'The Secret of Ésagila," he continued, his tone shifting to that of a recitation. ""Lord without peer in thy wrath, Lord, gracious king, lord of the lands, Who made salvation for the great gods…"

Arturia listened quietly, mesmerized as he recited the prayer. She watched his crimson eyes stare off into the distance, hooded in remembrance of this prayer, no doubt ingrained into his memory. Arturia was certain it was a prayer he probably held no earnest feelings towards, but still she listened.

"...Lord, who throwest down the strong by his glance, Lord of kings, light of men, who dost apportion destinies, O Lord, Babylon is thy seat, Borsippa thy crown The wide heavens are thy body…" He paused and looked at her, drawn from his trance like state. "...what?"

She felt her cheeks burn with color. She'd been staring.

"Don't stop," she said, feeling flustered. "I want to hear the rest."

Gilgamesh's lips cracked into a grin at her, and instead of facing the city, he turned and leaned his arm against the balcony, giving her his full attention.

"Within thine arms thou takest the strong... Within thy glance thou grantest them grace, Makest them see light so that they proclaim thy power. Lord of the lands, light of the Igigi, who pronnouncest blessings; Who would not proclaim thy, yea, thy power? Would not speak of thy majesty, praise thy dominion?"

Arturia felt hypnotized by this strange pagan religion. So long ago, she'd have turned up her nose to it and damned it. But after all she'd seen even in her own land, she knew there had to be more to it. There had to be something about the strange religion that she never noticed, something she overlooked. While she remained loyal to her Lord and Savior, her curiosity got the better of her. She watched the Babylonian king's lips move, taking in every movement, every sound.

"Lord of the lands, who livest in Eudul, who takest the fallen by the hand; Have pity upon thy city, Babylon Turn thy face towards Ésagila, thy temple Give freedom to them that dwell in Babylon, thy wards…" He trailed off and looked into his empty cup. "You'll be hearing these somber songs and woeful prayers for one more day." He looked back out onto the city, a soft smile on his face. "Though I never met Marduk, I never felt as if he needed our prayers. If we deserved his forgiveness and protection, we would receive it. And thus far, we have." He reached for the pitcher to refill his cup.

Arturia drank her wine and closed her eyes to listen to the music below. It was beautiful and heartbreaking, much like the hymns that rang from the monasteries back in Britannia. They weren't so different after all, both people begging forgiveness and praising their god's mercy and love.

As she kept her eyes closed, she felt a gentle touch under her chin that tilted her face upward. She opened her eyes to see Gilgamesh had closed the distance between them, holding her gaze to his.

"Will you let me show you the city?" he said, his expression returning to one of pride. But it was a different form of pride.

"Your request is unlike you, Gilgamesh," said Arturia, watching his eyes as they flickered down to her lips. He grinned and moved his hand away.

"I simply want to display my wealth," he smirked, gesturing to the golden city. "My legacy."

Arturia gave him a look. She usually saw a king's legacy as it reflected in his heir, something she realized that had never occurred to her about Gilgamesh. He was not married, yet had bedded many women. Surely there were children, illegitimate as they were.

Arturia shook the thought from her mind and placed the cup on the balcony.

"Then I would love to see it," she said, matching his confidence. Gilgamesh smiled down at her and then moved from the balcony, taking her hand. He pulled her out of the view of the city and back into the privacy of his own chambers, drawing her close. One hand snaked further down her back as the other held her wrist firmly. She raised a brow at him.

"Surely you don't mean to show me your bed again," she challenged. Gilgamesh's grin grew rather wicked, and before she could react, he hefted her up and tossed her onto the pile of pillows and blankets. She tried not to shout, a rather unbecoming squeal staunched in the back of her throat that came out as little more than a hiccup. Gilgamesh laughed and crawled over her.

"But isn't it one of my greatest conquests?" he said, leaning down and breathing against her neck. Arturia sighed and leaned her head back.

"I'm afraid I have little to compare it to," she said, running a hand through his hair. "I feel the judgment is unfairly balanced."

Gilgamesh pulled back with a smirk. He dramatically sighed and sat up, though still straddling her.

"Oh very well," he said oh-so-woefully. "If you've grown tired of me already, I suppose there's plenty of brothels-ow!"

He grimaced as Arturia reached up and tugged on his hair, pulling him down and to her side, effectively escaping him. She turned the tables, throwing one leg over him and pressing her hands to his chest. Gilgamesh stared wide-eyed up at her, still surprised at her ferocity. Arturia leaned down and grazed her lips to his before her next words came out with barely a whisper.

"Show me the city."

* * *

_Tohsaka Mansion_

Archer watched in silence as his Master interacted with his child, his first born, a girl of fiery disposition, Rin Tohsaka. In a way, the Servant admired her for her restless heart. She was by no means an elegant girl, but she held her head high, emulating her father's tall posture. Tokiomi looked down at his daughter before she went off to bed, marking the time in which battle plans could be made without fear of interruptions. Were Rin to awaken, she would go to her mother.

Gilgamesh's gaze lingered on the small girl with a strangeness, his eyes stuck on the space she disappeared from up the stairs. This still look did not go unnoticed by his Master.

"Something about my daughter strike you, Archer?" he asked, closing the doors to his study. Gilgamesh blinked and returned his gaze to his Master.

"Hm...not particularly," he lied. "Just observing the actions of the child imitate the parent's."

Tokiomi perked a brow.

"The greatest form of admiration, some say." He went behind his desk and set his cane at the head of it. "It's hard to understand if you've never had a child."

Gilgamesh visibly winced, but before Tokiomi could question that, a surge of mana in the area of the Mansion crawled across his skin like a sixth sense.

"A Servant is here." He stood up straight, his golden armor materializing in an elegant bright mist that curled across his body; he stood up straight. "It's...I think it's Saber."

Tokiomi narrowed his void eyes at his Servant.

"Do you sense her Master?"

"...No." Gilgamesh winced again, but disappeared in a flash, appearing atop the roof. He looked down onto the gates that opened onto the road.

She seemed to give off her own light, a glow that needed no lanterns or torches. Blue, yet warm. And...sad. He watched with his supernatural gaze, all the muscles of her face twitch in conflict, confusion, and perhaps...desperation? Saber looked up at him and held her invisible blade aloft, but horizontal, as if offering it to him. What was this?

"Archer!" she called out, her voice breaking ever so slightly. His heart nearly broke just from that hint of suffering, but he listened in silence, keeping his proud stance, not yielding, in case she was using his feelings against him. She continued, "I demand a truce!"

Her armor shattered into a thousand silver lights and Excalibur's windy outlined disappeared. There was no hiding Gilgamesh's surprise. He vanished from the roof, reappearing just a few steps away from her, clad in his simple white shirt and snakeskin pants. Gold jewelry still rang as he moved.

"You what?" he said. Saber made a face.

"Are you daft?" she said, her voice shaking. "I said I want a truce, a stalemate. A ceasefire-"

"Yes, yes I understand that," Gilgamesh stared at her hard. "Why?"

Saber stared at him hard. "The number of Servants remaining is dwindling. Caster is dead. Lancer is dead."

"What?"  
"Lancer is dead!" Saber snapped, as if saying it louder would make more sense. Gilgamesh wasn't entirely surprised, considering the loss of the golden spear was practically the poor Servant's death sentence. But so soon?

"All that are left," Saber continued, "are the Three Families of the Beginning and Rider with his Master. We are at a pivotal point in this war." She clenched her fists at her sides. "And the closer we get, the more my headaches behind my eyes with dreams and visions of a life I don't remember living, of people I don't remember meeting." She paused, giving him a pointed look. "And yet you claim to remember it all."

Gilgamesh crossed his arms and stared hard at her.

"So you come to me to alleviate the frustration?" he couldn't help but laugh. "I certainly hope you're getting a sense of deja vu, my little king."

Saber winced and held her head. "And that, you say things, do things…" She stepped back. "Who was I to you?"

Gilgamesh was silent, letting her wallow in anticipation. He was going through hell, enduring the woman he loved look at him like the scum of the earth.

"The greatest treasure I never had," he said lowly, watching her eyes flash and then squeeze shut. She looked down.

"Archer!" Tokiomi called from a balcony. Gilgamesh cursed and turned back to face his Master. Tokiomi wouldn't dare challenge his actions, but he could certainly question them. He still had Command Seals, he could make him kill Saber then and there.

"She's called a truce," Gilgamesh called. "Her Master calls for a meeting at the Fuyuki Church under the circumstances of those left in the war." He paused. "Lancer is dead."

Tokiomi narrowed his eyes, albeit briefly, at Gilgamesh.

"So few left," the Master said so quietly, it's likely Saber might not have heard him, but Archer did.

"I imagine Kotomine Kirei is now the mediator since Father Risei's passing." Gilgamesh cocked his head ever so slightly upward at his Master. "Perhaps it would be beneficial to honor this truce and discuss the elimination of the Servant that does not belong to one of the Three Families."

Tokiomi was quiet, and then said, "Very well, rouse Kirei. If the Einzberns want a meeting, they shall have it tonight."

Gilgamesh looked back down to Arturia, his expression softening. "As they discuss their Masters' conflict, we shall discuss ours. Does that sound civil to you, lioness?"

To his surprise, Arturia visually relaxed, yet still bore a look of pain. "Yes."


	26. Days of Akitu- Part 1

Fuyuki Church

"Kotomine Kirei is my student," Tohsaka Tokiomi said, gesturing to the stoic priest with eyes as blank as death. "He once competed in this war, but he lost his Servant early on, Assassin. So his rights as Master are long gone and hold no bias in this meeting."

"I'd say the fact that he's your student lends bias," said Irisviel, casting a dubious look at Kirei. "Along with the fact that he speared me through the abdomen."

"As I said, his rights as a Master are in the past and he now holds a neutral position over this War."

Arturia leaned against the wall, behind Tokiomi and the others, staring at Archer. He too had dispelled his battle armor for the more contemporary fashion. Even this far away from him, she felt as if his gaze was stripping her of her clothing, caressing her skin, his hands wandering. But when she looked up at him, while his blood-red eyes did wander, they were clearly fixed on her face. He was trying to gauge her thoughts, she realized.

"Either way," said Tokiomi, his gaze falling on Maiya, who had accompanied Arturia and Irisviel, "I am immensely thankful to see you have safely arrived. This Heaven's Feel is entering a very precarious stage. The Masters remaining are of those from the Three Families, and one outsider." He turned his gaze on Irisviel. "Do you of the Einzbern family have any thoughts on this?"

"No," Irisviel answered coldly. "We have the strongest Servant on our side. That is more than enough for us to simply stride towards victory at this point."

Arturia watched the eyes around the room fall warily on her, though she kept her gaze anchored to Archer.

"Is that so?" Tokiomi laughed provocatively. "Then allow me to speak my mind as well. First, we need to address Berserker and Rider. The Matou family's incompetence resulted in a mana-hungry Servant contracted to a incredibly weak Master. I imagine he will not be long for this world. Between the two other Servants, I suspect Iskander to rise victorious."

Arturia's head ached at the mention of Rider's name. Why him? What did he have to do with her memories? She looked more directly at Archer, who, from the slightly pained expression on his face, had clearly caught the twinge of pain in her expression. She stopped listening to the Masters' negotiations as her head began to ache even more.

"Ma'am," she spoke up, turning to face Irisviel. "Allow me to step outside and secure the perimeter. Even here, I do not feel completely safe. I trust Maiya will suffice for this small meeting inside...for now"

Irisviel looked to Tokiomi who then met his Servant's gaze. But this Master was not in the habit of commanding the King of Heroes, so Archer stood up straight from the wall and uncrossed his arms.

"I will assist," he said simply, and walked outside, not waiting for a response from either party member.

Arturia felt her stomach knot up, but why? She remembered but only fragments of this strange past, his strange presence in Britannia, glimpses of private conversations.

She blushed the flickers of memories in which he touched her, caressed her, kissed her. No whole memory though. Not a one.

Once outside, she turned to him. He stopped a respectable distance from her and waited for her to speak first.

"Tell me everything you remember," she said. He barked a single, sudden laugh.

"My little king, we would need far more time than this trivial meeting to recall everything."

She scowled.

"Then at least start at the beginning."

* * *

Uruk

Gilgamesh couldn't help but feel sorry for Arturia, what with her having to cover herself. It was a shame really. She bound down her breasts in order to wear a lighter shirt in the heat, but still donned a scarf for the occasional gust of sand, and, Gilgamesh suspected, because of how he had found her out in the first place.

Part of him wished he could show her the city without having to hide her true self, the self he had grown undeniably fond of.

He pressed his lips together in thought as they walked to the entrance to his palace.

"You're pensive," Arturia said, watching him. His reaction must have been amusing enough to merit a smirk from her.

"I do believe I'm starting to find the sight of your public garb rather," he paused and looked over his shoulder, "alluring."

Arturia let out something between a laugh and a short gasp, clamping her hand over her mouth to stifle the noise.

"Oh are you?" She challenged with a devilish smirk, and then her expression shifted. "Did you not once say you'd laid with men as well as women?"

"Yes," he answered plainly. "That's entirely different from now though."

They descended the long sandstone stairs, the setting sun giving them it's last rays of warmth before plunging the desert under the cold gaze of the moon.

"How is it different?"

Gilgamesh sighed, but remembered how prudish the Britains were. Arturia was arguably the least of all among them considering her unique position.

"Because while I've a history of taking both sexes, if given a choice between one or the other,I will always choose a woman's supple curves and soft skin." He glanced sideways at Arturia, who was starting to flush a faint pink. "Their noises ring more favorably in my ears." He leaned down and grazed her ear with his lips and whispered, "And I much prefer the way they taste." He heard her swallow hard and grinned, straightening up. "And despite your outward appearance," he said as they reached the bottom steps, "I know what is under those trousers. And I find that, my little king, very alluring."

He snickered as Arturia let out a long breath as if she'd been holding it the entire time.

"Well," she said, her voice raspy and soft. "That was...insightful."

He chuckled. Then the guards joined them, and he inched away just a little, but not enough to lose the unseen energy between the two kings.

"Do you prefer the palanquin today, sire?" said one of the guards. "Or perhaps the carriage?"

He looked down at Arturia.

"Do you have a preference, Arthur?"

She looked at a loss, meeting his gaze.

"I suppose if the carriage provides sufficient shade," she breathed, wiping her forehead free of a fresh sheen of sweat. "I would welcome it."

Gilgamesh nodded. "Very well."

The same carriage that had met Arturia and her knights at the outskirts of the city approached alongside the sandstone steps of the palace, ready for them to enter. Gilgamesh entered first, resisting the urge to offer a hand for the lady entering with him. He pondered, almost wistfully, how her visit would differ were he allowed to treat her as who she truly was. Dress her in fineries and jewels, keep her close to his side, yet out for all the world to see. He'd done this for many women before. This was the first time he'd felt the need to be discreet, hidden. It irked him, but there was nothing that could be done. Arturia was not just another woman, and he was aware of this, but old habits died hard.

Which is why when his hand ran along the cushioned seat to rest on her thigh, he stopped himself. Behind the closed doors of his bedchambers was one thing, but with little more than fluttering curtains and ornate golden doors to separate them from the thousands of eyes that would surely be watching the carriage, was another.

His movement did not go unnoticed by her though. Arturia looked down at his hands that now gripped the edge of the seat, and then back up at him.

"Showing restraint?" she asked, an edge of confidence in her voice. Gilgamesh swallowed and chuckled.

"Oh, my little king," he said, his voice raspy in the back of his throat. "You do enjoy feeling as if you've put me in my place, don't you?"

A smile cracked on Arturia's face, and then she jolted forward as the carriage began to move. She sat back up and leaned close to him, her lips inches from his ear.

"Discouragingly so," she said, and then leaned out the window before he could so much as get another breath in. She pushed the silk curtains back to allow the light to stream in, illuminating her pale face, like some celestial creature. Gilgamesh recalled learning of her God's warriors, angels, but in every artistic representation he'd seen, they were clad in heavy robes, with little power to be displayed. With Arturia, he imagined that she belonged with God's knights, clad in armor made from sunlight, raining holy wrath with a single swing of her sword.

Gilgamesh blinked, and the light moved from her face as they rode beneath the shadow of a building. She was enraptured by the outside as they passed through a district largely dedicated to merchants.

"If you wish to get out and walk around, feel free to say so," he told her. Arturia looked back at him and smiled.

"Even though the streets are empty, it's very beautiful," she said.

"Most everyone is at a temple or worshiping at home."

She released the curtains to swing closed and turned her attention back to him.

"What follows the first three days of Akitu?" she asked. "Tell me while we walk.."

Gilgamesh grinned and called for the carriage to stop, and then stepped out onto the streets with Arturia.

"Tomorrow morning, the priests will look for the sacred stars, Acre," he said as their sandals scuffed through the worn down sandy path. "They will recite Enuma Elish, the story of the gods and their birth, the creation of everything in the universe. How all the gods united under Marduk after his victory over Tiamat." He paused. "Really the retelling of this story is more of a preparation for what happens on the fifth day."  
Arturia looked up at him,

"And what happens on the fifth day?"

He answered without meeting her gaze.

"The submission of the king."

* * *

Fuyuki Church

Gilgamesh watched Arturia process the small amount of information he'd given her about how they'd met in their previous life. His want for immortality and her need for an army, the promise of the Holy Grail, their initial distaste for each other, or rather hers for him.

"Eventually we found a great deal of comfort in each other's company. It was simple. Intimate, and we both enjoyed it," he said, watching her face flush as he spoke.

"I don't understand how," she said. "I abhor you."

He winced, her bluntness stinging more than he'd like to admit.

"As you once did, little king...but…"

"Your Highness."

Gilgamesh turned to see Tohsaka Tokiomi exiting the church doors with Irisviel and Maiya in tow.

"Our ceasefire has been negotiated. We are returning to the mansion."

The two Servants exchanged looks, no doubt wondering what negotiations were made on their behalf as glorified pawns in the Masters' game for power. Gilgamesh looked down at Arturia one more time, the same sad smile gracing his lips.

"Perhaps this negotiation will allow me to explain things to you...on another day," he said before disappearing into a golden mist.

He escorted his Master back to the Tohsaka mansion, unseen by mortal eyes.

"What were the negotiations for this ceasefire?" Gilgamesh's voice rang out from the void as Tokiomi walked through the gates of the mansion.

"The Einzberns had conditions in order for us to stave off our fighting between the houses and focus on Rider and Berserker first."

"And those were?"

"We disclosed all the information we had on Rider and his Master, Waiver Velvet." He paused. "The second was that Kirei leave Fuyuki, no, leave Japan for the duration of the War."

"And you denied them that condition, correct?" He asked, clearly surprised Tokiomi would go through with that.

"I did not. But I had a condition of my own. That Saber must refrain from using her Noble Phantasm… for the safety of Fuyuki."

"What?" Gilgamesh was now dumbstruck. "You mean to say the weapon she could use to wipe out our enemies for us, the weapon that could easily dispose of Rider and Berserker, you demand her sheathe it away?"

"Yes."

Something about this condition did not sit well with Gilgamesh. Of course it didn't. If Saber could not use her Noble Phantasm against anyone than she couldn't use it against him. This practically guaranteed victory for the Tohsaka family. And Archer would have to experience first hand the death of the woman who he once cherished more than life itself.

Tokiomi reached his office door and Gilgamesh felt the urge to disappear.

"Goodnight Master," he said, and ported to the church where Kirei Kotomine had been left. The king wished to have a chat with the priest.

* * *

A/N: I'm not dead guys, just a shit person T_T I missed this story a lot and seeing the new movie kind of motivated me to get back into the swing of it. I'm hoping to continue to update it at a more regular pace now. Thank you all for your continuous support and I hope you can forgive me falling off the face of the earth.


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